©Jan Andersen, November 2007
Come sit with me a while in this place that I call grief,
A place that is dense with guilt, sadness and unbearable pain,
A place where past images and harsh words crowd your mind,
Where things you should or shouldn’t have said haunt you
And things you did or didn’t do rip your heart apart.
Come sit with me a while and feel the suffocating remorse.
Remember the pain in the eyes of the persecuted,
The one who felt he had nowhere to turn in his hour of need,
The one who hated himself and felt that no one loved him,
The one who saw no other way to end his anguish.
Come sit with me in this place of self-reproach and torture,
A place of failure and helplessness, nostalgia and longing.
Come sit with me and look back at his compassion and forgiveness,
His concern for those less fortunate than himself.
Watch the bullies taunt him and see him cry alone,
Suffering silently to protect his family from his pain.
Watch him give his pocket money to the homeless man,
Or give his last sweet to his mum or friend.
Watch him strive to be loved and accepted by everyone
And feel the pain of rejection in his heart with each rebuff.
Watch him find comfort in a needle of death,
Watch him sink into total oblivion; a permanent solution
To the meaningless abyss that had become his life.
Come sit with me and view the future that will never be,
A future void of his laughter, his hugs and his love,
A future where he’ll never share his daughter’s life,
A future for his daughter without a proud father by her side.
Come sit with me and struggle to hold this mask in place,
A mask that smiles and says, “Hey, I’m fine,”
Even when you are dying inside and want to scream,
“No, I’m not fine at all. Can you really handle the truth?”
Come sit with me a while in this place that I call grief
And try to tell me that time is a healer.
When you sit with me in this invisible place, you will know
That grief after a child’s suicide is eternal.