19 years. Today is International Survivors of Suicide Loss Day, which falls a mere 6 days after the anniversary of my sister SaraLisa’s death on November 17th, 2000. At this point in my journey, I have come to expect the unpredictability and uncertainty of grief. I am (mostly) comfortable living in the gray areas of life and am at peace with the knowledge that I actually know very little about the mysteries of the world. I rather like the not knowing. For years I got caught up in the downward spiral of “why” and “what if?” but am grateful to have moved beyond that for the most part.
Some anniversaries pass with less attention or emotional cost than others, but I have found this year to be particularly difficult, and I believe there are several reasons. I was 19 when SaraLisa suicided and this is the 19th anniversary, which got me thinking - moving forward puts me into a space where I will have her in my life less than the short time that I did. It’s a tricky and uncomfortable place to be emotionally as this realization has been washing over me the last few weeks. It’s that feeling of being robbed of something of such magnitude all over again.
In May, Jon and I were grateful to welcome Fennec into our lives and have been exhaustedly navigating the challenges of raising a tiny human. Amidst all the expansion our hearts have experienced with this new life, we have also been keenly aware of the people he will never know, mainly his aunt SaraLisa and uncle Matt. I know they would have loved him to pieces on earth and I’m confident they are sending good energy our way from the great unknown. I just so desperately wish I could have seen these relationships develop and grow over the years.
I worry that memories of SaraLisa are slipping away with the passage of time and there is little I can do to prevent their departure. Can I even remember the sound of her voice anymore? Her infections laugh is more cemented in my mind. I remember her extreme generosity and know my baby would be showered with gifts from her that may or (more likely) may not be necessary. As an experienced nurse, I know I would have had a thousand questions for her in these early stages of parenting. I remember her fearlessness, ambition, and fiery spirit. She was my introduction to some of the great female musicians of our time and we would sing at the top of our lungs while flying over the railroad tracks. She would shout “Look for a train! Too late, you’re dead!” which was of course much funnier at the time.
Days before she died, my sister Katelyn and I met SaraLisa for lunch at the Artful Dodger to celebrate her four years of sobriety. I know many people were sad about the Dodger closing and I count myself among them, but for very different reasons - it’s the last place I saw my sister alive and we were celebrating an amazing accomplishment. SaraLisa was also an incredible athlete, competing in triathlons and running marathons. I was never much of an athlete myself while she was alive and wondered why anyone in their right minds would run anywhere for any distance for what seemed like no reason. The last race SaraLisa ran was the Richmond Marathon. Last Saturday, I ran it for the tenth time. I’ve tried other races on occasion, but keep going back to Richmond because it feels like a liminal space for me, a place where her spirit is more accessible. I’ve run hundreds of miles with friends and many miles alone, but always feel her presence there with me.
As time passes, I find hope and remembrance in the small things - seeing my niece’s fearlessness that is so like her auntie, a reparative experience with a first responder, a glimpse of her smile in my parents’ faces, a shared chuckle and memory with my sister Katelyn.
And I keep creating. It has been my lifeline, the one constant that has provided refuge and kept me going despite the losses I’ve encountered in life. It has been a busy couple of years, but I’m so grateful to be back in the groove of putting my hands to work, trying to carve out little bits of beauty in my corner of the world. I often think of SaraLisa as I’m making jewelry - I’m honestly not entirely sure she would have liked it - she was much more of a diamonds and gold kind of person than me - but I know she would have encouraged me nonetheless. I made a small series recently that especially reminded me of her. Our last family trip together was to Alaska, where we learned about ulu knives. The shapes in this series are reminiscent of the knives and the colors were definitely a part of her palette.
I’m excited to be participating in a number of events with other talented makers this season. I’ll have a piece in the Deck Show at Larkin Arts and will be selling jewelry at holiday markets at Pale Fire Brewing and Gray Jay Provisions. This year, I’ll be donating a portion of my market proceeds to the American Suicide Prevention Foundation in memory of SaraLisa. Details about events and a sneak peak of some jewelry below. Until next time…and if it’s another 2 years, it is probably because (in the words of SaraLisa from a letter in 1997), I’m “taking time off to learn how to live.”
