One of the things we eventually pushed Mother on was just as simple aas paintingg a few rooms in lighter colors, both to brighten the rooms and to make the house hers and not the one they shared. With Daddy you could paint walls blue or pink but nothing else. I did that myself when i painted my childhood bedroom a soft peach color instead of the cheap aqua and contact paper my sister had turned it into while we still shared it without consulting me. It was better than the old pink but not by much. (we had named it pale putrid petal pink...kind of says how we felt about it doesn't it?)

I'm not saying go out and repaint or change your son's room; I think the pain is too raw and the separation too recent for you to do that yet. the only person who can decide if or when you feel like doing that is you as long as it gives you any comfort at all. The last room she had painted was their bedroom. Brightening up the rooms and letting more sunlight in made a big difference in the house and in her.Next time I go back it won't be my childhood home because she's just had a kitchen addition and it seems strange thinking about it.

There are some things abaout our children that we always carry with us. I can still feel those little toddler arms around my neck even though he's 6'2" now. I remember the first time he sponaneously told me he loved me. I had hip length hair then and he had come up behind me to throw his arms around me and tell me he loved me. He was standing on my hair. I didn't say anything about that part of it then. My husband told me that I had told our son I was proud of him more often by the time he was 18 months old than he had heard from his parents his whole life. the horrible part is that it was the truth.

Try not to go back and do the "If only I had" torture; instead look back for memories of silly things and remember he learned how to love from you. the real unfairness of life is that we can't go back and change things.Love doesn't die. Losing someone we love hurts like nothing else on earth.I'm as sure that your son is out of whatever pain drove him to commit suicide is something I'm as positive of as I am that I'm breathing.

Some days will be better than others, and some days like birthdays will be rough. We all do the best we can at the Mom business and that's all we can do. You aren't alone in this grief.

I am so sorry for your pain...it's a huge enough tragedy to lose a beloved son no matter how it occurs. Men are more likely to be successful and I think that's partly because we aren't given any warnings. I don't think his suicide was meant to hurt you but to stop hurting himself.

 At a very low point in life myself the only thing that stopped me was thinking that the person who found me would undoubtedly be my mother and she didn't deserve that from me. I knew if anything happened to her, it would just go spiraling through the family. Even so, it was  still really, really hard to keep on living when I was in so much emotional pain I didn't want to.

I've been in chronic daily pain for 25 years now but I can't put my son at higher risk by killing myself. As a teenager he was on the verge of suicide himself when he thought his life was over before it had really begun. I don't know if another family member has committed suicide, but if a parent suicides, it makes the chances a child will kill themself 50-50.

Here's something very important...committing suicide isn't going to keep your son from going straight to God and being there to see you. A vengeful suicide--the type where the person tries to frame someone else for their death or tries to make sure they will be miserable for the rest of their life....that's someone who has chosen to turn away from God.

If someone is mentally ill, or in extreme physical and/or emotional pain  that won't keep them from being able  to be with God. That's because their soul becomes free and well once their soul is free of the conditions that made them commit or even think of suicide disappear once they have left their body. I truly believe this with all my heart.

When you think of yur son with love, he knows it. I was afraid of death for a long time until my paternal Grandpa basically told me goodbye. I didn't hear it, but I felt it...it was like getting wrapped all over in love that just felt like Grandpa. I got the call 10 minutes later telling me he'd died 150 miles away about the same time I got that hug. I haven't been afraid of death since then. He's not the only relative or friend I've heard from...like having an anniversary card from a friend fall out of a cookbook 3 days before our anniversary. I'd been missing her and there the card was--and I don't keep cards in with my cookbooks.

 It may take longer to know that he's around because of the pain he was in before crossing over. Look for moved coins, favorite songs, even phone calls where no ones there. Who we are and who we love survives. My maternal Grandma died 2 years ago--she was over 100 years old and had still been living in her own home when she turned 100. A few days before she died she started worrying that maybe she was still here because she wasn't good enough for Heaven. (If she couldn't get in, a lot of us would be in trouble!) About 2 nights later, she dreamed that she was at a huge party with all the friends and family she hadn't seen in so long. After a while, she realized that the room was enormous and that she'd never seen any colors that were so magnificent. She was less than thrilled waking back up inside her 100+ year old body. She died that same week. One of the nurses came in early the day she died to say goodbye and warn us that she was already dying and would be gone that day. I don't see her...there's some psychic ability in my father's family, but I can feel her. Her dream made me realize how few ties she had holding her with us compared to all the people she had waiting for her.

Your son is in Heaven. Don't let anyone be cruel or petty enough to try to tell you anything else because it isn't true. You'll be in my prayers.