A sister says:
At some point after my sister died from suicide, I realized I was operating on a dead-end street. I was feeling sorry for myself and waiting for someone else to do something that would make me feel happy again. But I’ve come to see that nobody else is responsible for your happiness. Nobody! Only you. Every tub must sit on its own bottom. Your state of mind finally comes down to your choice, no matter how terrible the fact is that someone you love died from suicide. I’m not saying that tomorrow I won’t revert to “Here I am, little Janinne, saying ‘Poor me.” But I can assure you that I may feel sorry for myself for a little while, but then I’ll do something to get myself out of it. I choose not to stay miserable, and I know I’m the only one who can do anything about it.
A widower says:
Who would believe that making a pan of gravy would be such a turning point for me? After my wife died,I was as lost as if I had been dropped down in the middle of a wilderness. The shape of everything had been shattered. I wandered through the days and night like a zombie. I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t enjoy eating. One day though, a thought struck me: I would really like to have steak and gravy for supper! The steak would be no problem, but I had no idea how to make gravy. I had tried a time or two when my wife was alive, but the gravy came out in a lump instead of a liquid. “Well,” I thought, “it’s time for you to learn. If you’re going to have gravy, that’s what you got to do. What you gonna do, otherwise? Invite Mama down from Oklahoma to cook it for you?” You know, I found a new me to some extent just in making that decision. I could define myself now as a man who was going to become independent – a man who could make gravy.
