Joe Hayman

I’ve got a new health issue that has come up and while I’ve been letting others know about it, in the back of my mind is, “I need to let Joe know about this.”

That’s it, end of post.

I’ll be out in the ocean soon on a vacation trip with my wife and her family. I plan to get in my wetsuit, boots, gloves and hood to then paddle out on a body board I haven’t yet used since I purchased it pre-pandemic. In addition to being excited at the possibility of catching some waves, there is also that intimidation of being in a new and unfamiliar surf spot. What is more though, is once again being out among the waves where I’d almost always be with my brother on family vacations or weekend beach trips.

Joe was braver and more adventuresome in the surf. And I don’t think that I’d ever envisioned one of us needing to rescue the other but it was always a comfort to be out there together. He’ll be there with me in spirit maybe hooting it up if I get a good ride or two.

Like many of you, I read various news stories online. Often there will be announcements of someone who has died and what catches my eye will be what it is that is absent from the story, the cause of death. If it is Person X was killed in an airplane/automobile/motorcycle crash it will readily be shared. Or perhaps it is along the lines of “after a long battle with cancer.” So when there is nothing, I can’t help but ask, “Was it a suicide?” And if so, how is the family handling this devastating news?

When my brother died by suicide I was in totally unfamiliar terrain. I had the good fortune of searching and finding a survivors of suicide support group. The naming is a but confusing when perhaps “loss survivors support group” would be more clear to outsiders. Joe died on a Friday, I found out the following morning and the next Monday evening I was sitting in a circle of people sharing my story and then hearing others say things like, “The first two years were the worst for me……” That was hard to hear with me worrying, “Am I going to feel this bad for the next two years? Oh, shit.”

That support group was a grueling experience twice a month but also a life ring tossed my way in a sea of despair that would likely have pulled me under. I also sought books on the subject from the perspective of others who had walked this path before me to gather all the guidance and advice I could grab onto.

There I was walking up to the info desk at my local bookstore blocks from work. “Can I help you?” asked the employee. “Where are your books on suicide grief work?” or something like that came out of my mouth while I kind of heard it from above or beside myself. The employee just stood there perplexed as though I’d asked where the kryptonite was. It also felt taboo to even be asking for this.

After being shown the grief work books, none of the titles I’d found online were there on the shelf to meet my need for something right now. Nothing. I purchased a number of books I’d found mentioned online with that company that gets you items quickly while crushing local book sellers.

While awaiting those I found this helpful PDF that I printed out, carried to work and read over and over, at breakfast, during my lunch break, and on many evenings.

https://suicidology.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/SOS_handbook.pdf

Some time into that early phase of loss I also reached out to Forefront, a suicide prevention and research group at the University of Washington. The person I spoke with said, “Would you like us to send you a care package?” I nearly broke down crying at my desk at work as I said yes, especially as nearly all my fellow employees did all they could to not engage with me on what I was going through. No flowers, no sympathy card….just a fucked up stigma laden dance of everything I’d recommend not doing in the company of somebody who had just lost a loved one to suicide. There were a couple of people at work who weren’t that way but they were a tiny minority.

When the care package arrived from Forefront it included things like a blank journal, a pen, some tea, a teacup that I still look at and clearly remember where I got that one. It also had a few books including After Suicide Loss: Coping with your Grief by Jack Jordan, Ph. D. and Bob Baugher, Ph. D. This was weeks after the loss and the book stood out as something I’d hand to anyone right after getting such horrible news. I could picture chaplains, police officers, medical examiners in touch with families each having this book to pass along to those in the club that nobody wants to join.

I’m writing this now, nearly 7-years after my brother’s death by suicide as I’d seen a local news story that was followed a few days later by a county email list I get notifications from stating that the cause of death was suicide. I thought of that local coroner speaking with the family and of course the family in that horrible new state of existence.

Where would they turn for support? Would they replicate my quest for books at a library or bookstore if they could even utter the words?

So I reached out via email to our county coroner and recommended this book mentioned above, even told him I’d pitch in for a number of copies if the county didn’t have the resources for this. He wrote back and thanked me this week. And in the middle of composing this, I wrote him back to thank him and his staff for their service while also suggesting the pdf document mentioned above.

One last thing I’ll mention from the point of view of one who has listened to many a loss survivor share. Don’t get caught up in the manner of suicide like self-inflicted gunshot, jumping, drowning and so on. That is really besides the point and not helpful as a loss survivor or one comforting a loss survivor. Sure, you can listen to someone tell you the details but don’t dwell on that. Focus on the loss, the grief, what pain that person must have been in to go to such an extreme act. Support yourself or another with an open and loving heart.

I took a walk yesterday after work, down to the place where 6 years ago I scattered some of Joe’s ashes. As I neared the location, spotted an immature bald eagle at the shore’s edge. I’d been talking out loud to Joe and was then singing Patty Griffin’s song, Goodbye.

The eagle took flight, coming towards me and only about 30 feet above me, circled around me twice and only when it set down a few feet away realized that it was more interested in the fish that an otter was chewing away at. The otter seeing me, moved away toward the water. The eagle flew off.

Watched that otter eating before it ventured off to the West along the sand.

A magical moment and I like to imagine Joe was present in some mysterious way.

Here it is, another year gone by since you left us Joe. I miss talking to you on the phone. I wish we could go surfing one last time. I may take the longboard skateboard I bought you for your 40th and take it for a ride today. Haven’t ever ridden it yet since bringing it back from your apartment when we cleaned the place out so numbly and abruptly.

My whole point of creating this domain and site was to have a place where someone from my brother’s past who might say to themself, “I wonder what became of that guy Joe Hayman I used to know, work with, skateboard with….etc?” And if they searched and ended up here they’d first see the sad news that he is no longer with us. But hopefully they’d then share some fond recollection. I usually have comments off on this site, having been warned it is often a spam or other attack vector. I’ll put them on this post in moderated mode and see if anyone reaches out with a tale or two. Thanks for dropping by.

Perhaps this stands out to other suicide loss survivors as well. One sees a story about the death of a young person who has died, usually someone well-known in the public arena. They’ll refrain from using the word suicide or “took their own life” but will hint around the edges with, “had struggled with mental health issues for years.”

That doesn’t seem to be the best way to go in regards to openly discussing and addressing suicide here or abroad. Call the death what it was and face it head on.

I do however, agree with the policy of not giving the details on how someone took their life. That only plays on morbid curiosity, like slowing down to look over a fatal car crash.

What would be most helpful, in my humble opinion, is more stories about someone who almost ended their life, and what they did and are continuing to do to be here, caring for themselves and getting the needed support from others. Great example would be Kevin Hines in his activism and book, Cracked, Not Broken.

Taking a day off from work yet again on this, the fourth anniversary of when Joe Hayman died.

Yesterday I’d downloaded Angel of Nanjing on Amazon Prime and watched it on my long commute home. I’d seen something about this man on a shorter video sometime ago. This was closer to an hour in length and showed that he is merely a caring person with no professional training. Equipped with a big heart and scooter, he rides out onto the bridge that crosses the Yangtze River where many end their lives by jumping. Cheers to him for making the effort and as of the video’s creation, saving 300 lives in a country where nearly 300,000 die by suicide each year.

I’ll probably go on a walk in nature alone to reflect on the good times we had together when he was younger and, continue to have a more accurate review of the sad dark changes that came into his being surrounding him with heaviness and despair.

Like I’ve mentioned before, I’d love to hear from someone else who knew Joe in his early or later years to share some story about his life via the contact section on this site.

Some days I sit, stand, walk with a sense of something, make that someone, who used to be in my field of spatial awareness but is now gone. That might have been in the same room, walking on the same sidewalk, taking up the other back seat of the car or a more distant spot all the way across the country. Like when you walk into a room and notice something is off. An item that was on the table but is now absent. Or heading out the door for the day and realizing a pocket that usually contains a phone, keys or a wallet is noticeably empty. This is so much more than those trivial perceptions, the off feeling, looking around, and knowing there is no restorative action to take. Instead it is that occasional re-reminder of who used to be, and is no more and all that previous relationship entailed.

It has been three years since Joe died.  I took the day off as I had last year on the anniversary date.  Really didn’t want to be at work as it was not a supportive place the days following the shocking news.

People have so much more thoughtful ways of responding to pretty much any death other than a suicide.  They have more compassion for those who have lost a pet than they do attention span to connect with a loss survivor.  That is why loss survivor support groups are so important and were quite the lifesaver for me in those weeks and months since losing Joe.

It was good to be able to frankly share the pain and details of my experience while also hearing the same from others, unfiltered without concern for upsetting someone not familiar with this painful journey of loss.

Couldn’t fall asleep last night at my regular time so got up and read the end of yet another book on suicide loss.  I’ve come to find bits and pieces of great value in these books.  I’ve also come to see how far I’ve come in recognizing all these phases us loss survivors end up going through, sometimes repeatedly.

I’d created this page as a monument in cyberspace as Joe’s ashes were scattered to various bodies of water.  There is no headstone to visit.  I’d thought that someone would have visited this page and then reached out with a message of, “Hey, I knew Joe.  I remember when….”  And yet that hasn’t happened.  It stands in contrast to those famous suicides like Robin Williams where millions probably posted about what he meant to their lives on numerous sites, blogs and twitter feeds.

Alas, sorry Joe.  That hasn’t come to be.  I still miss you sorely.