She is gone.

I opened a Steemit account without a clear idea of what I want to do with it. I started blogging way back when most people had yet not heard of a blog. I loved blogging, loved going to blog conferences, and especially loved making great friends through the blogging community. A few years ago I received a deeply disturbing blog comment from an anonymous pedophile about his love for my children's pictures. He detailed for me how he liked to use my children's pictures to satisfy his vile desires. He told me how large pictures of my children were all over his walls. These were innocent pictures of my children young children. I was disgusted, and I immediately locked down all of my blogs. No one has had access since. My blog was somehow connected to a website for pedophiles, and I continue to receive requests from other perverts to view my blog. One of these days I will print the things I want to preserve from my blogs, and then I will delete them altogether. Steemit seems like a good place for me to experiment with writing again. It feels less risky, and I'm going to be more careful. The focus of how I want to use this space will form over time, but yesterday I concluded I would try to just write about whatever was significant to me on a given day. I just want to try to write again.

This morning I received a text from my mother. It said: "Call me when you have a minute, please."

That was strangely formal so I called her immediately. "I received bad news last night...", she started. I immediately thought someone died, but I can't recall who I thought of first. She told me her aunt "is gone". I remember her saying "She is gone." Gone is an odd way to say died when you have no anticipation that someone is dying soon. I was stunned and asked her what happened. My great aunt had some health problems this summer - she underwent back surgery and my mom had flown across the country to help her. Thank the Lord they recently had time together! I remember thinking maybe she had a heart attack. But then my mom told me that she killed herself.

Exhale.

This was stunning and terrible and just so sad.

My great aunt is an older woman, maybe even elderly... she's got to be in her mid-to-upper 70s. I guess I'm not sure where elderly starts... maybe 80? I don't know - she didn't seem elderly though. She was fun and had a great laugh, and the cruelty of this is that my mom has lost too many people. Such sadness.

I asked how she killed herself - how does an almost elderly person take their own life? She wasn't a woman with mental illness. She was the last person I expected to hear was suicidal. Maybe she overdosed on pain pills. I hoped it would be pills - that sounds not messy. My mom told me that she shot herself at 6:30 last night. Her son found her at 8 pm. She left him a note. I hope he didn't see her, but I do not know. It sounds so cruel to leave your child with your blown apart head. I didn't even know she had a gun. I am so sad for her, and for him, and for my mom.

This is what I know. On Friday she called my mom and told her she was back in the ER. She went home and had some scans done either while in the ER or over the weekend. On Monday she was waiting to hear from the doctors. On Tuesday, I believe, she told my mom that they found several new fractures. She was in so much pain and she didn't want to live on powerful pain meds. She endured until Thursday and she shot herself. My mom said, "She was a very efficient person - she didn't want to risk it not working." Practically speaking, a bullet to one's head is likely one of the most effective means of killing oneself. She was a practical woman. She made her decision. She ended her suffering.

On Tuesday or Wednesday she told my mom that her church hadn't helped her. I'm sure they will never know that she found that notable enough to mention a day or two before she killed herself, but it matters. We need to be mindful of those around us who are suffering. We may not be able to relieve their pain, but we can show them that we care.

My mom didn't want me to tell my boys how she died. She's from a generation that doesn't want ugly on display. I'm not like her. I want truth on display - I want to look at what is true and examine it, understand it, and to process it in a healthy way. Today I won't tell them all of that, as a small way to honor my mother's wishes. I will tell them though, because I want to raise men who are compassionate and understand the hard things. I also want them to know we can talk about anything.

I'm not going to try to tie this up neatly. The first communication of my day today was that my mom's aunt killed herself. My mom will retell this story today to my sisters, and her own sister, and then to anyone else she feels needs to know. It's going to hurt her every time. Her son is left with the devastating, messy aftermath of his mother's shattered head and all that has to be done after one loses their mother. My mom is probably going to need to go help him. I wish I could go with her, but I don't think I can. Together they will do the hard things that need doing while carrying the heavy weight of grief.