The Promise
Content warning: This personal essay is about grief after suicide loss.
I went to that place. I didn’t do it on purpose; I just had to see her.
I was a wreck. I was crushed. Everything I thought I knew about my world was destroyed in an instant. Ripped from my hands, shredded into pieces and torn away by a violent wind.
In the past, when something like this happened, I would hold on, rerunning memories in my head until they burnt through me. This time I wanted to heal before that happened. Give her the benefit of the doubt. But first, I had to know. I had to ask.
I was so anxious. I hadn’t slept or eaten in days. If I tried to eat, I would vomit. At home, in bed, out walking the street, in a friend's garage or sitting in a restaurant. I would feel sick and vomit.
It was torture. My body rejected everything.
A few nights deep, I found her. She was still so close, hanging around on the edge. It was dark. There were no stars, no moon, only us. We were standing in a vast desert of black sand, and I was screaming, terrified because my whole body was bursting with a blinding purple light. Shafts of it shot out from my face, arms, legs, and torso like I was made of crystal. I had no idea where or how I got there. All I felt and saw was darkness. And I was screaming. Just screaming and screaming.
She was standing in front of me, holding her hands up. Her mouth frozen shut, but I could hear her saying, calm down, Hana, calm down.
I had stopped breathing. My body gasped. The blinding light subsided, and the world glitched and flickered like rolling negatives in a film reel.
We stood before each other in this vast black desert. She had this look on her face, her mouth still frozen shut, asking, What are you doing here? Why, how?
I shouted, “I have to ask! I have to know!”
Know what? she demanded. Why? Everyone knows why.
She had been like this for a long time. There probably wasn’t any single definitive reason why. But there was a collection of why not’s. I didn’t want to know why.
“Would it have made a difference… if I had called you sooner?”
Her eyes softened, Well, it’s done now.
“But look at where you are!” I glanced around us.
There was a cow's skull nearby, its white boney form glowing against the soft black sand. Then I recalled her old room, collections of animal bones, gory artworks and band memorabilia, flowering pot plants and her pet rainbow lorikeet.
She looked just the same here, only less tortured, her face restful. She had no pain. No need or want for anything. I whispered, “I need you to know I love you. I always have and always will.”
She smiled, Well, obviously.
I felt our hearts and souls connect, suspended in this moment.
And suddenly, I snapped back. My chest pounded as I gasped for air. I was lying on the bedroom floor, awaiting the funeral. Which would be in a few days.
**
Driving to her mum’s house, I was afraid.
A few days ago, you could have mistaken me for a zombie. I had bruised black eyes, the skin on my cheeks completely peeled off, bleeding and raw from so much crying. I’ve never cried so hard in my life.
I remember her old flat. I waited outside while our friend pulled himself together inside. But waiting there only opened the gates to hellfire. Memories flooded in. Her laughter echoed in my ears. I felt the chilling physical absence of her. Sharp pieces of gravel dug into my knees and palms. I crumpled to the ground and howled like the life was being ripped from me. I’ve never screamed like that before. I left my body; all that existed was noise.
So I didn’t want her mum to see me until I at least looked alive again; I didn’t want to upset her because I knew I looked just like Grace. People used to mistake us for each other or assume we were sisters. I was worried that if her mum saw me like this, she would see her little girl and be heartbroken again. But I had put it off for long enough.
I drove the highway to the township where Grace’s mum lived. I started reaching out to my dad. He was buried in an urupā not far along the road.
Until this point, I had never reached for my dad; he would come briefly in dreams and go before I could reach him. He would always escape me, disappear, or leave the room. And they say that happens when you love someone too much. If you don’t dream of them or if they don’t come to visit you, it’s probably because you love them so much that if they did, you would try to leave with them. And I know that is true. I loved and wanted my dad so badly that if he had stayed long enough in my dreams for me to reach him, I would have held on tightly and never let go. I would have gone to the other world with him. I would have chased him as far as I could even knowing he would have to go back. They don’t belong here, and they can’t stick around.
So I started the same way I had the night before. I breathed slowly, focused and reached with this pure intention of connection. It was instant like he had been waiting for me to figure it out this whole time. Suddenly I could see him clear as day, bathed in a white-yellow light with his arms outstretched to me. Instead of reaching further for him, I asked him to find her. She was on the other side, and I needed him to find her. I needed him to be there for her and love her as much as I did.
Suddenly there she was, they were moving towards each other. He pressed his forehead and nose against hers and breathed light into her. She smiled warmly and then disappeared, vanished. He was frozen in place. I panicked. Where was she? Had he let her go? Had I let them go?
My dad stood there still, waiting… for me. For me to be ready. A wisdom came to me. Parts of her were in the light where he was. But she hadn’t left me cleanly like that. Huge parts of her were still on this earth, looking after everyone who loved her still and weren’t able to let go yet. And I was one of them. She was still here inside of me. Waiting for me to be okay.
I pulled over before the urupā and realised I was weeping. I had seen my dad for what felt like the first time in my life. But at the same time, I had lost her. I had lost someone who meant everything to me, a friend, best friend, girlfriend, soul sister.
I jumped the fence and stood looking at my dad’s grave. It was peaceful and well-tended, like a sanctuary. But I couldn’t feel him there. His name chiselled into the marble headstone. My own name and those of my family are marked there below. But I couldn’t feel his wairua. It was as if his spiritual energy was waiting for me elsewhere. Calling me to another place.
I got back in the car and kept driving. I would see *Grace’s mum soon and try my hardest not to cry.
**
I sat in the car stewing for about an hour, weeping, breathing, and gripping the steering wheel. This whole situation started from a stupid promise. When I found out what she had done, I had promised her that I would meet her at her mum’s house like old times.
I was trying to give myself a place, time and situation in which to feel and end all of the suffering in one victorious outpour. But looking at the house overwhelmed me. I realised grief doesn’t work that way. It would hit me again and again in unexpected sheddings. Random excruciating moments. Like being beaten by the ocean’s waves.
I didn’t feel so sure I could keep my promise now.
I had these two boxes of herbal tea to give to her mum. It was important to give her something. Grace’s mum had always brought me thoughtful gifts. Snow globes, Dutch biscuits, luscious organic soaps. The last time I spent Christmas with Grace and her family, I had given them capsicum plants. This time I wanted to bring the Dutch biscuits. But after visiting three supermarkets either under renovation, restocking, or simply without an international aisle, they were nowhere to be found. So I settled on two boxes of herbal tea. It wasn’t right. None of this was right.
I wiped my face; the raw peeled flesh sting was coming back. I would have to pull myself together and stop crying. But I couldn’t. I reasoned with myself and decided I would flee. I would leave the tea in the letterbox and get out of there. Maybe they had already seen my car parked outside, but no one had come out. They wouldn’t recognise the car, so I would leave the tea and drive away as fast as I could.
I grabbed the boxes of tea, opened the car door and stepped out. I saw the paddock that Grace’s dog used to run in. I heard the birds sing and chirp, the breeze gently spreading across my skin so calmly. In this place, Grace was at peace. I was safe, I would be safe here.
I walked slowly up the drive, hearing the birds and remembering how we would walk around the planter boxes, picking fresh vegetables and herbs. I came to the azure blue plaster walls of the house. The sliding door was open, and a young man knelt at the fireplace putting wood into the hearth. I didn’t recognise him; I thought maybe he was her step-sibling’s boyfriend. He was unnervingly calm.
“Hey,” he stood up, wiping sawdust from his hands, “Sorry, Tom and Ellie should be back soon.”
Tom and Ellie? “I’m here to see Yvette. Or Julius?” I said from the doorway.
“I’m sorry, who? I’m just stacking the fire.”
“Do you live here?”
“Yeah. Me, my sister Ellie, and her partner Tom.”
I peered past him. The furniture was different. There were different paintings on the walls. The kitchen was taped off and the tiled floor had been torn up. I staggered back, light-headed. I remembered a Christmas phone-call from Grace not long ago. She said that her mum had recently moved house. She wanted to see me. But I was nine hours away, out of town. I forgot. I forgot all of it.
“Do you want to come inside?” he asked.
My face flushed red. Had he seen me crying in the car? I nodded dumbly and stumbled inside, “I think I might faint.”
“Are you okay?”
What followed was a tearful telling about the recent passing of Grace and our history here. “I’m sorry. I’m at the wrong house. Well, it’s the right house but the wrong people.”
He was very kind. He listened to my story and made sure I was okay while he built the fire. He said I could stay as long as I wanted and look around.
I mustered up some courage. It would be like pulling off a bandaid. It would be good. Instinctively I walked across the lounge, through the sliding door to the patio.
I stepped back in time.
The red brick fireplace was still there. The yellow Hotsprings road-sign still pointing toward the jacuzzi. The corrugated iron artworks in timber frames. As if it was only yesterday that we were here together, sitting in that hot pool, drinking beer and talking until the sunrise. Everything was exactly the same. This is where I was supposed to meet her.
“Well, here I am, Grace! Where the fuck are you?” I blurted out at the top of my lungs.
Then I laughed relentlessly and uncontrollably. Embarrassed that I had spent so long dreading and avoiding what was so right. I was meant to come here and be with her in this space. This place where we had always felt so much peace and comfort together. Everything that had built up since our last soak, all of the awful shit I had been through, all of the awful shit that she had been through, the drama, disappointments, anger, trauma. All the shit we would have talked about until sunrise… It was all washed away in that epic build-up of tension and release. Rinsed out of my body. Washed away like a clock turning backwards.
I was overcome with relief. And an encouraging suspicion that she was still messing with me in her loving way. She was still looking out for me from the other side. I could hear her distinct voice in my head, tutting sweetly, Hana, Hana, Hana…
I should have known that she would never leave me like that. I laughed so hard that tears streamed down my face. Only these ones didn’t burn.
*Names have been changed
If you or someone you know is struggling with mental illness, help is available:
The Depression Helpline – 0800 111 757 or free text 4202 (to talk to a trained counsellor about how you are feeling or to ask any questions).
Youthline – 0800 376 633, free text 234 or email talk@youthline.co.nz or online chat.
The Lowdown Text 5626 for support to help young people recognise and understand depression or anxiety.
Alcohol Drug Helpline (0800 787 797)
Digital tools and resources
The Mental Health Foundation has practical tips, stories, and resources focused on things we can all do to maintain our mental wellbeing and look after our whānau. The site also includes additional helplines, tools and resources.
Groov is an app you can use to monitor, manage and improve your mental well-being by setting daily goals and tracking your progress.
Small Steps are digital tools to help you maintain wellness, find relief, or get help for yourself, friends or whānau.
Headstrong – (including Aroha Chatbot), a uniquely New Zealand chatbot app designed for young people – feels like talking with a trusted friend. Download it from the app store on your mobile device.
Triple P Online – online parenting support including Triple P, Teen Triple P and FearLess Triple P. Designed to help parents support their children and teenagers to cope with life’s ups and downs, promote wellbeing and make family life more enjoyable.
Wellbeing Support – an online directory to find free mental health and addiction support near you through the Access and Choice programme.