Lucy Raemer’s shared experience

 
a letter to lucy
 

This piece is brilliantly written by Lucy Raemers. Lucy lost her brother to suicide and has since gone on to set up The Ben Raemers Foundation, an incredible organisation which aims to end the stigma of mental health within the skateboarding community. We’re so grateful to her for sharing her story below. 

Dear Lucy,

This is day one of your new life. A new life you never agreed to, unwillingly signed the scroll to the contract of the life of a suicide survivor. As the scroll reels out, falls past your feet and continues to unravel you see a glimpse of your new journey through your hazel soaked teared eyes, you can only focus on those few numbers that are now indented in your heart, mind and world, 1990-2019, RIP Benjamin Joseph Raemers.

All you can do right now is keep your focus on that iPhone, messaging people back to thank them for their words and ‘support’. Believing if you continue to not look up and keep that standstill, broken, headspace staring long enough you might just escape this living nightmare that you are a main character in. The endless phone alerts and virtual cards of deepest condolences do not need nor deserve an ounce more of your energy. 

Over this next year you will learn the art and lessons the selfish human being portrays. Empty words and inquisitiveness being invited into your space. Your new bubble that should be left to only have a focus on surviving and healing but still bowing to society with that nurturing nature of yours and putting them at ease for the disappearance of Ben. Throw two fingers up at them and the world, put the phone down and keep your eyes on your survival prize.

As you open the door to your bedroom you see your bed still untouched. Seeing visions of your sleep closed eyelids on it symbolising the last time you had paradoxical sleep, an uninterrupted dreamland state of mind, with no broken grieving heart or fear of meeting Ben in the only place that is now possible. The sofa is the only place that feels some sort of safe sleep haven, it won’t be forever, it illuminates some added anxiety on that anguished headspace and heart of yours. Remember your only focus is that survival prize, those late-night tears can keep running off the cushions and onto the late-night living room floor. This is temporary and sleep comes in peace, it really wants to be friends again, slowly but surely it will gain your trust. 

Right after those words “I’m afraid it’s not good news” got said to you. It left you standing on earth, but half your ‘2019 Lucy soul’ took to the stars to be set free with Ben. All you can do right now is lay in a foetal position, curling the last half of your soul as tight as you can. You’re scared the pain will cause you no other choice than to join your darling Ben. When you can (and you will finally stand) you stand taller than you ever have and that half but strong soul stands with you. Your ‘friends’, the humans wearing that cape that hid their unfavourable values and morals soon drops off, they drop off from this new life, no chapter in this book is harder nor easier, but all the same you deserve and need friends keeping a padlock on keeping that half soul safe, have faith that the golden ones will stay and new recruits are a matter of weeks away, they will stand with you now and forever. 

Time is never on your side, it really is the only healer. Time stood still the day Ben left you, but it is one big promise that every second those hands tick it is a second more you are surviving, and you can contend with this new life. Those dark thoughts are normal given what has happened, replaying the last few living moments Ben took his last breath is normal, those bursts of emotional destruction are normal, those patches where you feel guilty for smiling and feeling numb are normal. Time will even out the pattern of whatever episode your headspace is giving you, everything has lost sense, time is something that will never change, but you will.

Life has lost all meaning. All meaning apart from hope. Hope that the constant churning of torment, guilt and torture leaves you to heal. Hope that although you will never be the girl who opened her eyes up on the morning of 14th May 2019, you will have hope and a tablespoon of faith that you will prevail this new life. You have signed the scroll, you can merely glance at it and the chapters you will now subsist in, but you will make your mark, you will change forever, and you will change the world with you Lucy. The meaning of Lucy means Light, there is light at the end of this tunnel, and you will see some light in your darkest hour.

All the best, you really have got this,

Lucy 2020

Written by Lucy Raemers

Lucy Raemers

Lucy Raemers

Previous
Previous

StrongMen - A charity supporting bereaved men

Next
Next

Bereavement book club