With the Christmas cards in 2009 came a newsletter from one of my husband’s elderly medical patients. Printed five times along the top of the newsletter were the words FINAL ISSUE. “The moment of culmination of years of planning has arrived,” it begins. “When you read this, I will have left for my next post.”
He goes on to explain that from time to time he had “inflicted upon some of you these egocentric declarations: 1) I have absolutely no fear of death but am damn particular about how I get there! 2) I plan to quit while I’m ahead. 3) I intend to choose the time, the place, and the manner of my departure. (And how many people get to do that? Or want to?)”
It was not that he was in a “really lousy mental state,” as he thought some might conclude. Only months before, in fact, he had sat down with a dictionary and gone through words beginning with “de” and “dis” to find those that did not describe him. That is, he was not to be considered “debased, decadent, decayed, deceived, decrepit, defeated . . . disabled, disappointed, or discouraged.”
“There are a lot more words than this on the positive side,” he added, “but they aren’t conveniently grouped for easy listing!”
The tone throughout the writing is most reasonable and considerate. At the end of the suicide note are the names of immediate family members, three of them married children who likely received the FINAL ISSUE around the same time as–maybe even a little later than–my husband.
I’ve wondered for years how reasonable and considerate they felt their father’s suicide to be. Feelings of rejection–not to mention shame and stigmatization–are prominent among adult children bereaved by the suicide of an elderly parent (John Jordan and John McIntosh. Grief After Suicide: Understanding the Consequences and Caring for the Survivors. New York: Taylor & Francis Group, 2011, p. 67).
More to follow.
Mary's Shortcut: About Suicide Bereavement 
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