Forgiveness: Caleb

Forgiveness is a word people hand you like a pamphlet. They press it into your hands and walk away as if they have done something. They never stay long enough to hear how the word torments a parent who has lost a child.

When Caleb was a high school senior and involved with the Drama department, he would stay after school many nights for set design, building, rehearsals, and some fun. One late night after not getting a reply to our text, Donna drove to the school to check on him. His car was not there so she went toward one of his friend’s home. When she passed him going the other way and turned around, she called him and asked where he was. “At school.” She said, “No, I am behind you. Go home.”

Our kids can do things that make us angry. I do not like that he broke our trust, but I also understood exactly why he went where he did and why he attempted to lie.

That was the kind of forgiveness I understood. Your kid messes up, you talk about it, you move on. Nothing prepared me for the kind that has no conversation on the other side. Early on in grief, I had so many questions and assigned some of the answers to blaming Caleb. I was angry at him for leaving. I was angry that he was too stubborn to admit he might need assistance with housing, or admit he needed clinical help, or thought this would solve anything.

So here I stand at the final door. Can I forgive Caleb?

My son, the most rational, logical, intelligent person I have ever known. Yet, his writings and search history those last four days were irrational. His statements lacked cohesiveness. I became convinced he was not in his right mind.

We have heard from several people who said Caleb helped them when they were suicidal. He helped those who were cast aside. Caleb not only promoted life, he wanted people to thrive. I now refuse to let my happy, rational, loving child be defined by a bad day.

I was not angry long, but I also was not fully convinced quickly. It took me a while to settle into my belief. Some remain angry at their person. I understand.

I believe Caleb was not himself. A victim of a disease.

If I did not know about his thoughts, or that this is a disease, would I have forgiven him? I cannot be sure, but I think so. Maybe it would have taken longer. What I know is that I forgave him for breaking trust that night before we went to bed, and for plenty of other things. Our kids often obtain forgiveness without them even asking. Maybe God forgives me just as easily.

But what is there to forgive? Everything that I blamed him for is completely explained by the disease. The mental break caused all rationality, faith, trust, and communication to disappear. I can not blame Alex or Emily for dying in the womb for the same reason I can not blame Caleb for dying.

This complete collapse of the word forgiveness makes me think it is not the right word for this series. I cannot forgive Caleb because there is nothing he did to forgive. The God question and the blame have no words either. I sit with it. I cannot completely forgive friends, family, or others because I do not know their grief or thoughts.

Is this yet another thing in the world of Survivors of Suicide (loss) that has no name? There is no word to describe my loss. A child who has no parent is an orphan. A person losing a spouse is a widow or widower. Parents who lose a child have no word. There is no word that describes our grief. There is no word for the emotional abandonment. The only word we have for the loss, suicide, is a stigma. We are the ones who have to apologize when we say how our child died. We are the ones who have to start conversations, and restart them after saying our loss aloud. We are the ones expected to forgive while the unanswered questions will not let us. We have no word for that either.

I am still sometimes angry that he is not here, but it’s not directed at him. I think I just need something to blame.

Because he is not here.