“This experience showed me that there is a significant amount of suicide survivors in the world with a dire need for simple human-to-human compassion and understanding. I was not alone. But, during my own ordeal, I found no book, person, or god that could rescue me from the black hole of this unfamiliar territory. I felt alone. I began to journal my anguish as a way to survive my loss. This journal became more than a collection of chronicles about the lives of my family members. It became a clear reflection of the way love could deliver me from a kind of hell I had never imagined. I gave my grief a voice because its silence was trying to kill me.”
Barnes & Noble.com
When someone we love dies we never say goodbye
We say, thank you for coming into my life
We say you will always be with me
We Say Sempre (Forever)
Still wearing pajamas,
I covered myself with a robe on the way to the door. I opened it to see the
taller of the two men showing me the silver badge in his hand. The first
word I spoke was “Danny,” then found myself backing into the bathroom
to the left of me after he quickly blurted out his message: “Daniel Bucki is deceased.” This happened fast. His voice sounded like a recording, like he
had said those words a million times. His facial expression was unreadable
and his mouth a slight line that seemed programmed to speak four words
that would change the lives of our family forever.
I didn’t cry or faint when I heard the message. Finding myself standing
in the middle of that bathroom floor, everything went black, but some
power inside of me tore away the urge to faint. What happened next was
not like a typical scene from a movie when a mother is told by the police
that her child is dead, and she falls to her knees and lets out a bloodcurdling scream. The stranger’s words didn’t hit me as I thought they would—when
I had imagined hearing them so many times. Instead, my mind collided
with what the man told me, resisting belief.
By Joanne Sinatra
Jo, the book will have the same effect on strangers. I didn’t know you that
well when I read it on your website and I had to stop every so often and breathe.
As I was reading it I was actually holding my breath or shallow breathing and
that is how moving it was to read it. I can tell you I cried at times. If I had to
use one word to describe it—it would be “raw”. It is painful and touching. It’s
sad and also happy. It has made me appreciate my life all the more. It made me
realize the mountains that I thought were in front of me and that I climbed
over were mere hills compared to what others have endured.
By Joanne Sinatra
A Stranger said...
y. I hope that would be possible someday.
12 Joanne Mazzotta
I especially love the title, “Why Whisper?” and Danny’s admonition
to “just tell the truth.” It speaks so strongly to the situation our family is
in and I think about daily, “Why Whisper? Let’s just tell the truth!” My
son ended his life in November 2008. Thank you for sharing your family’s
experience. Obviously, each of your family members has arrived at a place
in their grief healing to permit you to be so candid. Hopefully, one day
each of my family members will reach that point.
Mickie Quinn said,
I got up Saturday morning, brushed my teeth, made a cup of tea, and
headed to the computer. I started your book and didn’t even get up . . . I
finished it all in one sitting. I just couldn’t stop reading. It made me laugh
and cry and so many other emotions. I have to admit, the stories about
Danny and his shenanigans just made me laugh out loud. No story has
ever touched me, stirred such emotions and stayed with me like yours has.
I am sure that Danny is very proud of you for “telling the truth” and that
he is with you every moment of the day. He was truly blessed to have you
as a Mom and vice versa.
By Mickie Mousseau (Quinn)
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