My Worst Day

My husband and I just returned from a winter vacation, a 7-day cruise to the Caribbean. We have been going away on holidays during this time of the year for the past nine years. While waiting to board the plane from Miami to New York, I spoke to Kevin. My last words to him were see you later this evening, and please make your therapist appointment. I also reminded him that his therapist called and left a message that he missed his last appointment. Little did I realize that was my last conversation with my beloved son. We arrived at our home at about 4:30 pm and discovered the most horrific, devastating, earth-shattering day in our lives.

 

My dear son, Kevin Itwaru, SitarHero, his social media name, has lost his 12-year battle with mental illness and depression. Suicide, the dirty "s" word, has claimed my son's life and forever altered the trajectory of my life. A word filled with shame and millions of unanswered questions. Suicide was never on my radar since Kevin assured us that "he would not take his life." But the unthinkable has become a reality, leaving me in disbelief, shock, bewilderment, and grappling for answers.  My "perfect" little family — a girl and boy — is no more.

 

My life is shattered into tiny million pieces. How is it possible that mental illness has taken my son's life? How come I didn't see the signs? I knew he was sad about relocating to a new state, but this plan had been in the works for almost a year, as my husband's job offered him a position. I felt like I had let my son down, and I found myself blaming both myself and God for the tragic event. My mind often races with overwhelming thoughts about the tragedy, but I understand that those thoughts were important but I would never acted on them. By giving voice to my feelings, I am slowly reclaiming my sense of control, strength, faith, and meaning to live, and not just survive. I felt all five stages of grief – denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance – all at once, plus shock, scrutiny, shame, and anxiety. I lived in shock and clouded brain for two and a half years.

 

Each day is challenging as I fight the new reality of life without my son and apply tools to excavate the pain. Five years later, I am learning to find beauty in ashes (Isaiah 61:3 says that God will replace beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness) and focus on the love that bridges all gaps, memories, and everything else in between we created, nurtured, and lived through as a family. Grief largely comprise my new life that changed without my permission. ​​

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​Awareness of Grief

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The emotions behind stories are usually similar even though the situation or heartbreak is different. My ability to feel emotions is part of being human, so I embrace them to get through the grieving process. Grief must be witnessed, thus, it entails a vast amount of courage to accept and show up for help. 

 

In these moments of vulnerability, we need to find safe spaces where others can listen and support us. For those who have not faced the pain of loss and death, it can be challenging to understand the profound absence of a loved one, and that’s completely natural. We live in a society that often avoids discussing death, making it feel like a taboo topic.

It’s important to recognize that suppressing sorrow is not a healthy choice. Embracing the opportunity to express my feelings presents hope. Allowing myself to be authentic and to release pent-up emotions of despair and sadness is a crucial step toward healing. Finding a welcoming and supportive community to share my suffering and allowing myself to be vulnerable creates an environment that encourages hope after loss. During moments of struggle with the absence of my son, I lean on love, faith, and friendship to guide me and actively seek connections with kindred spirits. Discovering and connecting with others who understand can truly make a tremendous difference because grief is my new best friend and it is a reminder that love once existed.

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Light of my Faith

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I was angry with God for a long time. So many questions, but no answers. Why didn't He protect my son? I prayed, trusted, and believed in His mercies, grace, and healing for my son. I also had prayer warriors who were fervently praying for Kevin's recovery. Someone must pay for my son's death, and why not God? Eventually, I realized that my faith has always played a vital role in my life. I returned to my faith and cried out to God to help me with this unbearable and immeasurable pain and suffering. This Bible verse: "You will keep in perfect peace whose minds are focused on Him" (Isaiah 26:3) has played a vital role in my grieving process. 

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In my journey to rediscover myself after the catastrophic loss of my son, I have embraced God's promise of hope and healing. I find solace in knowing that He will mend my broken heart and heal my wounds if I open myself to Him (Psalm 147:3). My faith has become an integral part of my identity, guiding me to engage with life again and discover a renewed sense of strength and perspective. While I recognize that there is purpose in the pain, suffering, and sadness I have faced, I believe there is no purpose in my son's death. I am determined to use my story to inspire others, allowing grief to unfold naturally and dispelling despair through meaningful connections that illuminate the path beyond darkness. In a welcoming and supportive environment, we can focus on love, loss, and the light that guides us forward.