The Suicide Club: What to Do When Someone You Love Chooses Death

By Alexandra Wyman

Alexandra Wyman was plunged into grief when her husband died by suicide. The sudden loss of the love of her life left her reeling with unanswered questions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Houndstooth Press
• Release date: Nov 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9781544533810

Alexandra Wyman

Alexandra Wyman is an advocate and public speaker for resources in the aftermath of suicide. After she lost her husband to suicide in August of 2020, Alexandra found a need to change the rhetoric around suicide. She has spoken at the Colorado School Counselor Association's annual conference; the Orthodox Christian Association of Medicine, Psychology, and Religion (OCAMPR) annual conference; and Bridging the Divide Suicide Prevention and Awareness Summit 2022. She has also been a guest on the YouDoWoo podcast. Alexandra practices occupational therapy and lives in Colorado with her son. Visit her online at www.forwardtojoy.com.

Book preview

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Boy meets girl and falls in love at first sight.

Girl meets boy and, on the second date, falls in love.

Five weeks after their second date, they are engaged.

Eight months later, they are married.

Eight and a half months later, they buy a house.

Ten months after falling in love, they find out they are pregnant.

Eighteen months later, they give birth to a beautiful, healthy baby boy.

Thirty-two months after they first met, boy drives up to the mountains in Colorado with his handgun and never returns home.

To Shawn, may your light continue to shine.

Houndstooth Press

Copyright © 2022 Alexandra Wyman

All rights reserved.

The Suicide Club

What to Do When Someone You Love Chooses Death

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Contents

Introduction

Phase I

Shock and Awe

Chapter 1

Day of Liberation

Chapter 2

Trail of Destruction

Chapter 3

The Memorial

Chapter 4

The Business and Stuff

Chapter 5

Comedy in the Wake of Tragedy

Phase II

Now What?

Chapter 6

What’s Left Unsaid

Chapter 7

A Train with No Brakes

Chapter 8

Mirror, Mirror

Chapter 9

Rebuilding

Chapter 10

Boundaries, Boundaries, Boundaries

Phase III

Finding the Collateral Beauty

Chapter 11

Desiring a New Relationship

Chapter 12

Firsts

Chapter 13

The Angelversary

Chapter 14

The Ping

Chapter 15

Getting to the Other Side of This

Afterword

Recommended Reading

Appendix

The Business

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Introduction

I was unexpectedly plunged into immense grief when my husband died by suicide. I wrote this book because I wish there had been something like this for me when my life exploded in an instant. When thinking about how to start and structure the book, I struggled with how to order my thoughts.

Though professionals point to the clinical stages of grief, I do not believe those stages are necessarily accurate. They are not linear. They do not come in a nice, neat package, one at a time, as you seamlessly get through one before being hit with another. Those stages come all at once, or in twos or threes, or even not at all.

I have, however, discovered for myself three phases of grief that apply to my healing process, and I have written this book in accordance with those phases:

Phase I is the Shock and Awe of the event. So much can happen in this acute phase. The length of time differs per person, but for me, it was four months. Some, I know, spent a couple of months in this phase—others, six months or more. There is no right or wrong to the length or process—it just is. I detail my personal healing process to share tips and tricks I learned along the way, along with some of the more business-related aspects of what happens after someone dies.

Phase II is the Now What? phase. This is when the shock has worn off. Most people had returned to their normal lives while I was trying to navigate my current life. There were still so many emotional fluctuations while having to return to some form of normalcy, whatever that may be. To the outside, life might look normal again, while internally, everything is still quite a shit show. This is when rebuilding begins. I share practical strategies I used during this period to work through the process of rebuilding and healing, one day at a time.

Phase III of grief and healing is what I call Finding the Collateral Beauty, which comes with acceptance. Reality sets in that a loved one is not returning. They are not walking through that door. A shift takes place from knowing to feeling that everything will be okay. Priorities change. Who I am has changed and is still changing. I am embracing my new self, situating into what my life has become while looking forward to what my future has to offer me. And through this newfound peace, I now find collateral beauty all around me. I do it through compassion, love, and forgiveness.

After such a tragic death, it is possible to get to a place of peace and joy again, but to do so, we have to ride the emotional waves that include feelings of anger or resentment, whether toward our loved one who has died or others involved. Early on, I was told that this grief process is like riding a surfboard on choppy waters. Sometimes they calm down, and other times we are gasping for air. No matter what, we need to ride those waves and embrace the whole journey. Only then can we get to a place of peace.

Because grief can be so hard to navigate and emotions can run high for years, I have intentionally omitted or changed names and used general terms to avoid any continued hard feelings. Some elements of my story may be triggering, so please seek help, in whatever form, if you find you are triggered. Take care of yourself as you walk with me through my healing journey, and may you find the strength and love to continue yours. Come back to the story when you can, and hopefully, you’ll meet peace in forging your own journey.

We long for love. We wish we had more time. And we fear death.

—from the film Collateral Beauty

Phase I

Shock and Awe

My soulmate, the man of my dreams, the man I waited so long to meet, my everything, my better half, my penguin, my love—with one single action, he blew up my life, and it would never be the same. It would be months before I realized it was not my husband who came home that morning. Instead, I came face to face with a demon. I saw it. I felt it. I knew it, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

The day my husband ended his life was the worst day of mine. The trauma associated with his last day on Earth was unlike anything I could have fathomed before or anything I believe I will ever experience afterward in this very long life I have left to live.

Chapter 1

Day of Liberation

At 3:00 a.m., I texted Shawn: I’m really upset with you.

I was upset enough that for the first time in our relationship, I needed space to calm down and figure out how I felt so I wouldn’t say something I might later regret.

Shawn’s response was, I’m sleeping. This might make my husband seem like an ass, and that is not at all who or what he was.

The night before, a Friday, he had been at his best friend’s birthday party. I had decided to stay home with our son while Shawn went to the party because it started at our son’s bedtime. From what I have heard, the party was just like old times, with a thousand laughs, cheers to go with it, and plans for the future that included trips to Costa Rica, snowboarding in the Colorado mountains, and many more celebrations, including ones for our son. He partied with his friends from high school, bringing him back to those almost carefree days.

On that Saturday morning, as I was getting myself and our son ready for a walk, Shawn texted me: I’m on my way home.

I figured he was hungover, maybe craving a Bloody Mary and some breakfast, as was usual when partying with this group, so I rebuffed him, telling him to just stay with his friends. I said this in anger.

I was afraid I would explode at him, and eventually I did, which was unusual on my part. He came home anyway. When Shawn got home, he did not look right. His eyes were bloodshot, and his demeanor was cold. He was wearing his token Hakuna Matata shirt and his gray Dickies shorts. He attempted to rub my shoulder, and I sidestepped him, a regret I will live with for the rest of my life. He pulled our son from my arms, offering to take care of him during our walk. I retorted, No, that’s not the plan. I will take him so you can rest. And why didn’t you just come home last night?

I’m sorry. I was going to, but then I just didn’t.

Once my husband realized his apology did not assuage my anger, his demeanor shifted. He scoffed at me, chortled at me, and made fun of me for being upset. You’re ridiculous, he told me. He had never acted like this before. Never.

I yelled at him (and we rarely yelled at each other), Why can’t you just be a husband who has a couple of drinks and then comes home to his wife and son? This marks my second regret from that morning. He had no answer.

I ripped our son from Shawn’s arms—my third regret that still haunts me. Shawn slowly looked up at me and said, Fine. Why don’t we get a divorce? I’m leaving you. He grabbed his wallet and keys, rushing out the door before I could say anything to stop him.

That was the last time I saw my husband alive.

I called my sister, sobbing over Shawn’s words, and she redirected me to my parents’ house. She suggested that she could help brainstorm ideas for ways to talk to Shawn. My sister and Shawn had a very unique relationship. He had shared with her some of his traumatic childhood experiences, and she was so loving about it. We called them therapy sessions. We would have dinner, bring out a bottle of wine, and then I usually fell asleep on the couch or went to bed while they stayed in heavy discussion.

I had just been with my sister the night before, doing my own vent session. Shawn was acting like he no longer wanted a wife or child, and I was trying to process through it all. Once I got to my parents’ house, I collected strategies from my parents and sister on how to approach him. I was devastated at him suggesting a divorce. I knew the last couple of months in our marriage had been more difficult,