by Marlena Elias
July 14, 2001

I really need to stop watching the HBO specials. Daughter of Suicide was on this morning, which is a documentary made by the older of two girls whose mother killed herself. The mother was 48 and died on Halloween. This one hit a little to close to home for me, so by the end of the documentary I was reliving the experience of my own Mother's death which took place when she was 48 on Halloween.

The mother who killed herself in the documentary suffered from depression most of her life. She was a therapist who did not see she needed help. Medication and therapy would have made the difference between life and death for her, but she never felt there was a problem. The interviews with both the daughters really brought back all kinds of pain with the memory of their experiences. The oldest daughter described the feeling as being abandoned; a theme that has run through my life since my mother died.

For years we were told that Mom died of congestive heart failure, but what really happened was an accidental overdose. Mom was in so much pain - not likely physical, but emotional, that she didn't pay attention to the number of painkillers she was taking. She was screaming because the pain was so awful, so she kept taking the pills. What also was never discussed was that Mom suffered from depression that went undiagnosed and untreated. After my sister killed herself, my Mother was never the same and living with her in the same house was close to torture.

The day Mom died I was in Michigan at Camp Eberhart with the Jr. High on a science camp weekend. I missed all the screaming and crying and calling out for my sister Mary while Mom was slowly killing herself. In fact, the day before Mom died she and I had a fight. Because I was going away she had this tendency to make the departure as painful as possible. This was true for all of us, not just me. So Mom and I were in the kitchen and she was on some kind of tirade. My brother Paul came in to the kitchen and Mom yelled at me to say goodbye to Paul. I went up to Paul rolling my eyes and he said to me, "It's ok, Mom does this to me too." So I said goodbye, just to shut Mom up and then Paul left the room.

What needs to be said at this point is that I bore a remarkable resemblance to my sister Mary who killed herself. Oddly enough I have the same birthmarks that she did on my right thigh and stomach. My Mother never recovered from Mary's death and so Mom never wanted me out of her site. She wouldn't let me walk two blocks to the bus stop, she insisted on driving me. In addition to the humiliation of being driven to the bus stop, was the unpredictability of Mom's moods. She had mood swings that were rather dramatic in nature anyway, but after Mary's death they were worse.

So, I'm in the kitchen with Mom just making what should have been an exciting moment for me absolute torture. I was finally getting away from her for 3 days! 3 whole days without Mom watching and protecting me. This idea of freedom did not escape Mom's radar and I had to pay dearly for this freedom. So Mom yelled and said all kinds of horrible things, but before we left for school she did tell me she loved me and I begrudgingly said, "I love you too." So Mom takes me to school and manages to humiliate me one last time before I get on the bus for the school trip. She went up to every adult standing near the principal's office and asked them to take care of me for her. Little did I know this was a harbinger of what was to come.

So I get on the bus feeling absolute relief at getting away from my Mom. This weekend I was planning on getting my first kiss because Matt Ghonue and I had been eyeing each other for years and I could tell this was the weekend it was going to happen. The signals were all there from Matt, so it was just a matter of time. On the first night, there was not much time for unsupervised activities, so I did not manage to get my kiss. We all went to our respective bunk beds and I looked forward to the next day with such excitement.

This camp was rather large and the upstairs of the main lodge had a huge dorm room where they put all the 6th grade girls. So the second day of camp, which was a Saturday, I was up in the girls' room with my friend Melanie Yokum. I looked down into the main hall and I couldn't believe my eyes, but my older brother Larry was there. I was furious. I couldn't believe Mom sent some one to check up on me. So I ran down the stairs and I said to Larry, "Did Mom send you to check up on me?" and Larry said, "Marlena shut up, Mom died."

What happened after that was really a blur, I had to go upstairs and get my things. My friend Melanie went to find out what happened and she ran up to me and we were hugging and crying. I don't remember who broke us up, but we weren't allowed this time together to grieve and I remember being really pissed off about that. One of the things that did pop into my mind while I was packing my stuff was that I was not going to get my chance with Matt! My Mother is dead and all I could really think of was this missed opportunity - which I thought somehow my Mom knew I was going to kiss a boy and she died on purpose! I was 12 years old enjoying the freedom of being away from a smothering parent and all I could do was to think she died on purpose. Not too self absorbed, eh?

The drive from camp to our house was awful and when I got home, my Dad was at the kitchen table crying. I walked in and hugged him. I looked at him and I said, "Dad, I'll take care of you." He laughed and said, "We'll take care of each other." That was the last time I ever sat on my Father's lap. Our life was never the same again.

So getting back to the HBO special, watching the oldest daughter doubt herself, loathe herself, blame herself brought back a flood of memories. I remember very distinctly Dad saying to Mom, you have 6 other children that need you - you can't just shut down. Nothing helped. Just like the girls in the HBO special, there was no helping the mother who felt she couldn't go on living. I guess what helped me, was seeing I wasn't alone in my grief and pain. Other girls have lived through the same kind of abandonment and come through OK.

Mom died 27 years ago this Halloween and I still miss her. I still wonder what life would have been like if Mary hadn't taken her own life and if Mom was still alive. There was a point in my youth when I could have tried to guess what would have happened, but anymore I trust these things happened for a reason. The day my sister took her own life was the day our family changed forever. Things were never the same again. Watching the girls in the HBO special helped me feel a connection, not just to the loss and the pain - but I was no longer alone in the death. None of my friends have lost their mothers, so seeing other women go through this tragedy helped me see I was not alone in this experience. <EM>