As clinicians we do what we can to prepare for the unpreparable; we want to try to be ready for whatever our clients throw at as. We study the literature, consult with other professionals, read case studies and do whatever we can to be ready for the call that means a crisis has occurred. But what happens when the call comes and it is not a crisis from without but from within? Are any of us prepared for a crisis from within our own walls? Are we prepared for an untimely death? Are we prepared for a suicide? Can we ever truly be prepared?
Several months ago I met a young man who wanted to volunteer at the not for profit I direct. As a small program we are excited to have an extra set of hands whenever they are offered. Though he had no real experience with working with his hands, this young man had heard we were remodeling an old art studio into a new group and family room and wanted to contribute whatever he could. Though I normally handle any painting and remodeling, a contractor had volunteered to do this project and was happy to teach the strapping 19 year old the craft. He was a quick study and very dedicated; we felt lucky to have him.
I won’t pretend to have been this young man’s closest friend, but I enjoyed speaking with him and had offered to take him out to lunch on several occasions. I sensed unease in him, to use a friend’s favorite expression, “he didn’t look comfortable in his own skin.” Though he denied anything being wrong, I encouraged him to talk with me whenever he felt the need. I even offered to do so not as a counselor but as a friend who happened to be a counselor. I encouraged him to use our services or the services of another provider should he need anything. The last time I saw him he appeared to be considering it as he paused when I reminded him that I was there and indicated that he might have been ready and was thinking about taking me up on the offer. I learned later that he had told at least one person close to him that he wanted to get help but had not called yet. He reportedly told many people that he was beyond help and that no one could understand what went on in his head. Sadly he never called anyone for help.
On Sunday afternoon on May 15th I received a call from this young man’s mother telling me that he had taken his life. Though there was no note and the car accident was still under investigation, she knew that it was no accident; over time we all came to learn that he had talked to friends about taking his life in the manner in which he ultimately did. Far from being an impulse, it was very thought out and meticulous, just as his work had been in our office. Crisis services were offered to friends and family, many on a pro bono basis as we felt it was the right thing to do. Many tears were shed, hearts were broken; hearts were confused. Those in our office were not immune but we put on a brave front to offer comfort.
I rarely go to wakes or funerals; it just is not the way I grieve. I typically prefer quiet remembrance and contemplation followed by an activity that I associate with the deceased; symbolically acknowledging that they are no longer with me in our quest. I found myself drawn to this service however and contacted the family to see if it would be appropriate or if they would feel uncomfortable with a doctor of counseling who had assisted many of those with this crisis being in the church during what would surely be one of the most trying times. They answered warmly and I planned to go to part of the service, sign the book, and offer a few warm hugs and maybe some tissue before leaving; just as I had done on many occasions in the past. This was different however in that I stayed. I stayed for the entire service, I stayed in the periphery until after the casket was closed; I was there to offer support, I grieved in silence and started to leave the church to head home. In the entry way I watched the casket exit surrounded by those closest to him. I remained in the background, a fixture trying to blend in. Moments after the casket left his parents saw me and introduced me to all that remained. They said some very nice things with every introduction and I wondered if it would have been better if I had left earlier as this was not about me but about them and their loss. His father gave me a long embrace and invited me to the house where family was gathering. I was blessed to hear stories about their son and to offer what support I could. I even enjoyed a good meal.
In the days that followed I welcomed friends and family who wanted to see “his” room. I made it available for viewing and contemplation whenever anyone wanted it. The person who donated the money for the renovation expressed a desire to dedicate the room to his memory and the family accepted. Everyone found it tragically ironic that his last deed was to help make a room where families and groups could receive mental health care when he himself needed it but was too afraid to get help himself. The room will now be focused more on teen outreach and support services to help prevent any future teen suicides.
My agency was approached by several people including his family who want to start a “therapeutic scholarship fund” to help teens who are suicidal or depressed to get help. The scholarship is still being designed and is as or yet unnamed but it appears to be building momentum. We will do what we can to assist, though I suggested they give themselves some time to think about what they want to do; time after they were beyond the initial grief stages to be sure that this was the project they wanted to take on. Based on recent newspaper interviews and the fact that the family has given me permission to share this story (though I have emitted any names), it would appear that they continue to feel this is their way to remember their loss by hopefully preventing future ones.
There is no one way to grieve just as there is no one way to make a difference in the lives that we serve. There is also no way to prevent every tragedy from occurring in our community but with diligence we can reduce the occurrence and the impact. We cannot however eliminate death but we may be able to prevent a needless one.
As for the office; we continued to help our clients the day after the tragedy with minimal disruption. We had to cancel a few appointments in order to accommodate those in crisis but no fragile clients were disrupted. The non clinical staff and volunteers proved to be true professionals in the face of tragedy and except for a few tears that were to be expected, they soldiered on. We had a few extra staff lunches and provided a sounding board and support services to staff and volunteers alike. They appear to be doing well.
As for me; well I performed my duties as required, shed a few tears as needed and prescribed a healthy dose of tractor therapy which always does the trick. The following weekend marked the anniversary of my late sister’s birthday; she too died tragically young partly due to lack of proper health care. Instead of tears or a focus on loss, my wife, mother and I elected to plant 100 trees; giving life on the day that she was given hers. Tired, sun burnt and exhausted, we dug the holes, prepared the roots, planted and watered. There are many ways to deal with loss…
How have you dealt with loss? Have you lost a co worker? Have you ever lost a client? I would love to hear how you dealt with it. Together we can find the ways to work through the obstacles of life, work, love and therapy.
Warren Corson III (Doc Warren) is a counselor and the clinical & executive director of a community counseling agency in central CT (www.docwarren.org).