Saving Noah

by Lucinda Berry

you have to talk about it. Keeping things inside destroys you. Things are never as bad as they seem when you’re keeping them a secret.”

“We are not our loved ones’ crimes,”

Time had dragged. Nobody told me time slowed down with tragedy and how each minute became excruciating when it was painful to merely exist. Just when I was gaining my footing, something would remind me of it and send me into an emotional tailspin. Most of the time it was the little things, like a college admission packet in the mail, an email about ordering hot lunches for the next month, or lyrics to a song he liked. The grief would pummel me, and I had no choice except to succumb to it until it passed.

I always thought suicide was the most selfish act a person could commit, and that it was a complete disregard for others and the effect it would have on the people who loved them. I assumed people who did it were only thinking about themselves, but it wasn’t the case with Noah. As I listened to him talk, I realized he wasn’t just thinking about himself. He was thinking about everyone he cared about.

Being his parent didn’t stop after he died, and it was my job as his mother to protect his memory in the same way I protected him while he was alive.