Should Have Been. A Story About Suicide Prevention For Survivors.
Ivan took his life in August. I was twenty something. Early twenty something. It’s so weird to not even be able to recall my exact age or the range of year or specific date anymore.
Because I told myself, I’d never forget and always remember where and when.
I think it was the 17th. But it might have been two days later. I think it was two days after that. I used to commemorate his death every year. For decades.
I just don’t anymore.
But I remember where and when and I didn’t forget.
If you asked me where I was, what I felt, what I feel now and if I’m still okay…
Death by suicide hasn’t changed.
I was supposed to be there. I asked for the next day off. The last time I heard his voice was when I told him I just couldn’t come to dinner and wanted the day off tomorrow.
I was supposed to be there for the artichokes he found for a celebratory dinner the night before. The night before tomorrow. Because I raved all spring and summer long how there was nothing like dipping an artichoke into melted butter and lemon if we could only find them.
He found them. And did he really plan it all down to that detail.
I was supposed to be there that morning. I was supposed to open up the office and get our software online. I was the one alone with him every workday making sure systems were or weren’t in place. I was supposed to be there an hour before he ever walked through that door.
It was the early nineties… when dial up took the time. It was decades ago when everyone whispered the words mental health.
I was supposed to be there.
But I was sleeping off the hangover a twenty something college kid did when the dream forever job she landed suddenly became the company is bankrupt and we are dissolving the trendy ergonomic chair you like to sit in.
I was so mad at him. At them. I was so pissed off that he caved and closed the company. I was so absorbed in my need to process how my future would change that not once did I even realize his past was closing in.
I was supposed to be there. And had I been…
Maybe he wouldn’t have. Or maybe he would have. Or maybe I’ll still never know or reconcile what might have been.
You have to understand how his death still matters today. How it infiltrates seemingly silly unrelated things. How everything about the time I knew him and what had happened still threads into every perspective these decades later.
I was supposed to be there.
And if Ivan were here. Wouldn’t he laugh. Wouldn’t his pain sting greater. Wouldn’t he wonder.
This wasn’t a high time, nationwide Silicon Valley global monster of corporate. It was a guy who had worked and been successful and decided there was a niche. A man who was doing code and trying to get small trends to catch on. In 1994.
And I was in charge of the books. I watched this man move money from his personal accounts to the business for months. I was there. Every single day. Until the day I wasn’t.
I was supposed to be there the day he was selling the software for Order Out, Inc.
A local restaurant to your door food delivery service in Akron, Ohio.
Can you imagine.
Ivan wasn’t the first and he will never be the last. And Ivan probably had faults I’d hate him for now. He was such an imperfect, brilliant man.
But he didn’t need to do that. And none of us could have stopped him. Or maybe we could have.
Death by suicide is such a tragic journey for every person with every story. And it really doesn’t matter if you remember the day or time or year. Or if you suffer through the details of every second of could have, should have, might have been…
No one is immune.
And Ivan is gone. And I could have been there. But I wasn’t.
And all it takes is that second of difference between temporary and permanent.
And so you, if you’re reading this story, you… if you’re on the other end of the tragedy or you’re wondering if Ivan’s wall of narrow scope should be your journey… you need to know that he was wrong. And I was wrong. And he was not given the help. And we all fucked it up.
And we should have been there and we weren’t and we might never be there in that moment of artichoke hearts with melted butter.
But we are here right now. In this moment.
So you stay.
And take it all to another day. Years you cannot see. And memories yet to be.
You stay. You share. You tell others how much you care. And if you fail at saying your sorries, if you miss the mark on what could maybe be… if you wonder and wander into those places and spaces…of defeat…
You stay.
Because we are supposed to be there and we aren’t. And we don’t measure up. And we might not ever.
But we measure through so many things and more to come.
You stay and you live another day and I promise you…
All of our collective and individual stupid “should have been there for you” will become an empowerment you never knew.
Stay. And, know… others better than me are there for you along the way.
We might not be there in that so very desperate tragic moment, but we will get to you sooner than you can imagine and you are not alone.
And you need to stay.
One more minute. One more hour. One more day.
Stay.
If you are someone you know is struggling, there is help.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (NSPL) Call or Text 24/7: 988.
Elizabeth Grattan is a broadcast talent and writer who has covered current events, human interest and social justice for over three decades. Her loves are laughter through tears, old ball caps, reasonably priced blended reds and her dream come true little man. Find & friend Elizabeth on FB or follow along on BlueSky or Threads. Subscribe to the Newsletter on BeeHiiv.
