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Had she survived her immolation
and lived on in quiet disfigurement,
Dido would have hated the lost fire
and partial combustion and what in her
was earthen and too insipid to burn.


--"Les grandes passions manquees", Irving Feldman


In the aftermath: what can I do, can we do, as Survivors of Suicide of Loved Ones, to live fully and honor the memories of our loved ones lost?

This page and its sub-pages last updated March 13, 2004
 

In Loving Memory: Michael D. Williams 
September 21, 1973 -- September 4, 1997

Michael and I, 1996. Click on picture for photogallery.

My life is a poem to you, unfinished.
somehow the feather on the pen flies from my hand, knowing
something more than this;
we danced to many songs, many times, and words couldn't reach the
paper too far from this world and we balanced a delicate parameter of nothing
and everything of joy and sadness
we lived many lifetimes in a short time, but what is this concept of time?
I tried to linger in your moment, a pause of irises. A moment so real.
My poem would begin, if it ever was written, with a dance of rejoice.
The time stripped away and the words no longer suit for what they signify
Your soul brushes up against the depth of a height higher than us
Wings gather, a sense of peace.
I walk down the street carrying the weight of my back,
the knowledge of bliss,
how can I be anything but joyous and desperate?
What would you want me to write?
Besides that I walk and breathe, and look up to the stars.
We share the moon
I fall back into your arms and candlelight appears on eyelids,
I reach out to you forgiving; time fades, clouds fall gently
I see us for what we were.
I see we are still as one.
I hold your hand as I move forward, filtering light tracks behind me of hope
And intuition becomes my poem. A source that escapes a word.
Somewhere near this level we dance, you with your eyes on me
tracking the centuries of love between us.
---A poem for Michael that I wrote. 12-28-97.

 

Please click on the above sketch that Michael made with his sumi-e kit to see some of the things he loved in life, and a beautiful photo of him amidst giant bamboo in So. Ca.

It is my wish, as a Survivor of Suicide, to try and create a place where the stigma and shame is washed away so that people who are going through this can begin to be open, completely open, with their hurt. Survivors need least to be isolated, and yet paradoxically, in this society, the tendency is swayed towards the medieval: shunning, hiding, whispering, and repression becomes the way it is "dealt" with. This has got to stop. I want to offer some of my own experiences, my contacts with Michael since his death, my journal writings, site resources, and links to not only my bookgallery but many other sites on suicide, grief, and loss.

To live again, fully, I know I need to share. I am not ashamed at all. I am proud of Michael, his life, and the love that he and I continue to share. I don't have all the answers as to why such a wonderful man would take his own life, but I do know that he had a depression that was REAL, and it was DANGEROUS. Our society needs to stop treating depression as a WEAKNESS. It is not a weakness, it is an ILLNESS. It is a biochemical imbalance and if treated with care and proper medication it can be worked through, and lived through. All I'd like to do here is hope that someone will be touched by my story, by Michaels' story, by his love, our love, and what we can learn about life from it. I don't know what else to do. I'm not ready to die just yet, and I know Michael will help me to purvey the truth.

  Please feel free to share your loss or simply comment on my page. Letting out pain helps, I believe. As of 2002, I've begun a new guestbook here (links below; old book access is thru the buttons to left and right). Please sign if you would like. Or, please email me...

[email]

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Michael, 1994. A favorite picture for me.
For you, I question. (I love you, I question.)
I've felt your presence, I've been more angry
and even for the wrong reasons because of our loss, your loss, mine.
This house, this garden, resonate with our past ideals,
our dreams, saturated in fear and
humanness, and misunderstanding.
How could we ever lose what
belief in the eyes we shared unbroken and
true. How could you leave me like this. How
could I have ever been the point of your exit?
What sort of lessons am I forcing upon myself?
Siblings say 'get a job. get a life'
And now I see why you and I never have walked on solid ground, unless together, ethereal steps too heavy and weighted.
you took a step into the submerse of unknown. i am forever left in the hypnotic avalanche of pain. 5/24/99,


Subsections of this page:
    [NEW: poems]
    [next page]
    [other solos tribute sites]
    ["on death" by kahlil gibran]
    [a prayer]
    [my journal in the aftermath]
    [michael shows me he's still with me]
    [one,two and three year anniversaries (also see journal page)]
    [a survivor's bill of rights]
    [art therapy in grief]
    [booklist pertaining to suicide loss and grief]
    [more photos]
    [michael's love of japanese art & culture
"Z knihy sveho zivota jsem, muz,
rval po listu list
a vsechno je spaleno, kde jmeno
tve bylo lze cist.
Ale kdo se ve svem srdci vyzna?
V ramci z stribno
pouti svetem me tva podobizna
vsade provazi.
Z tech nebylas, na nez zapomina
clovek pro jine.
Dnes vim: Na tom svete zadna jina.
A ty taky ne."
----od Frantisek Gellner, "Elegie" 		"From the book of my life, man,
I tore page after page,
and where one might have read your name
all has already burned.
But who has ever known one's own heart?
In a frame of silver
your image
follows me throughout the world.
You were not the kind to be forgotten
for another.
Today I know: No other in this world.
Not even you."
----Frantisek Gellner, "Elegy"

"LIFE IS ETERNAL AND LOVE IS IMMORTAL----AND DEATH IS A HORIZON, AND A HORIZON IS NOTHING--SAVE THE LIMIT OF OUR SIGHT." --unknown

Forever dedicated to Michael. I love you.

[Please email]


Why is it that this loss reflects its burn as the years go by? Am I the only one who is trying to live on but who feels alone and shushed??? What the hell is going on with a society that can't deal with this kind of loss?
Last updated February 26, 2004.

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