Last week I began sharing photos straight out of Hawaii. My daughter and her local best friend Jessica went to Hawaii to be with LaLa. LaLa lives in Hawaii via her Military wife. In the early morning hours of May 21, 2017 I received a horrifying call from my daughter Kharisma. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the screams into the phone. LaLa was being placed into an ambulance. Soon after she was pronounced deceased even though the impact already took her. I haven’t been able to talk about it in the details everyone wants. None of us can.
Bring LaShawn Home
If you can’t give to it, can you share it please?
I wrote this for her, her family, those who love her and for all the LaLa’s out there. It wasn’t about me.
My name is Suicide. People don’t know me they only know of me. I’ve kept my identity secret because of the shame my name reflects onto others. There are many who share my name and like other names there’s more than one of me. I’m not unique. I’m unique in who I had become. I’m beautiful and I ride or die in a world filled with pain and chaos. I sometimes leave behind the ones I love a little too much for hope in something better, to put my own hurts behind me or to help from somewhere else. Other times the decisions and choices I make leave lifetime scars that I didn’t consider when I…
For this I’m sorry.
My name is Suicide and it wasn’t your fault.
The next day I shared this via YouTube
My Name is Suicide
What should have been nothing but an amazing vacation of a lifetime became something my daughter will never forget seeing. I couldn’t get to my own child in living hell. I can’t imagine another mama not being able to get to hers in death.
When we can teach people that depression, suicidal ideations and attempts shouldn’t be stigmatized as voodoo we might be able to save lives. No one reaches out. Those that do are told they’ll be fine, suck it up. What they really mean is shut up because you embarrass them, shame them, or they are unable to understand fully why you reached out. Some people never will. Other’s may but are not believed. Yet there are others who shout it out as a cry for help or attention. Whatever the reason it becomes another persons fall. Just like stigma in chronic pain, medications, suffering, abuse, misuse, overdose. Judgement! LaLa didn’t overdose.
LaLa fought a chronic pain disease. She wasn’t apart of your community. She was apart of mine.
You’ll see that my shares on Facebook went from incredible happiness to overwhelming sorrow.
She’s a warrior, too.
Photo: LaLa and I 6 months ago. After I completed the Gohl Program the first time. I can still remember what we said to each other.
I rode with my husband to take Kharisma and Jessica to the Airport in San Jose CA on May 16th. And the memories began. They would not have arrived until the morning of the 17th.
At precisely 6:59 a.m PST. 3:59 a.m Waikiki Hawaii I heard the phone ring out of my sleep and I missed it. I pulled myself up, something was wrong. As I redialed my daughter I began making coffee. No answer. I sent her a text: May 21, 6:32 a.m PST (3:32 a.m Hawaii) –> You called? Everything OK?
I still don’t want to talk about it. I understand it because I was almost someone of it. There are variations. Planned action and immediate uncertain action. Sometimes we want to die and we want to live at the same time yet there isn’t any way out of that final choice we make. Sometimes there isn’t any coming back. It’s only a finale.
LaLa was the first person my daughter ever told when she became pregnant with our grandson. Kharisma and Rikki have been close to her since they were young teens. Ozra has known her since he was 7. De’Mantai all his life. Ozra and ‘Tai have no memories of not having her part of their lives.
Sulma and LaLa spent much time with us here at our home. Coming over to be with Kharisma and having me part of those amazing times together.
I have a lot of daughter’s, some I never gave birth to.
#Suicide #StrongerThanPain #Breakthrough