"Meg, it's Louise … she's gone."
On August 14, 2016, at 3 in the afternoon I fell to my living room floor.
My sister's words, "she committed suicide," rang in my head for days, weeks, even months. Today, I still struggle to comprehend our loss.
Louise was my brother's fiancee. She had a deep and kind soul, was humbly brilliant and absolutely beautiful inside and out. She had been part of our family for 10 years and was a devout Christian. One of our common threads was our faith in God and the comfort it offered both of us during our journey in life.
Louise was honest and forthcoming — I might even say proud — to talk about her difficult teenage years, her mental health struggles and her lifelong quest to seek help and become stronger. Mostly I loved her because she could put up with the crazy Baldino family – all 18 of us! Many in my family had recently spent time with her and thought she was doing well. She had seemed OK despite some setbacks and very difficult transitions taking place in her life. On that particular Sunday, for many reasons — but none I have knowledge of — she chose an unthinkable path.
Grief these days is like a friend I don't really want around. Sometimes it's a bully that punches me so hard I have to retreat to a hot shower so no one can hear me sob. Other times it nudges me as I listen to music and sip a glass of wine, reminding me of nights spent at our Illinois lake house playing cards and laughing. Grief is a bit of trickster too. One morning, as I was grabbing socks out of my drawer, a bright yellow pair caught my eye under all of my Smartwools. For months I hadn't noticed those knee-high yellow bumblebee socks Louise gave me for Christmas, but there they were — grief, suddenly right next me.
In Alaska we don't need to be reminded of the devastation of suicide. In 2017, Alaska's rate of suicide was the highest it's been in 20 years. It is the No. 5 leading cause of death in our state. In 2017, 201 people in Alaska died by suicide, leaving behind countless spouses, children, relatives and friends faced with the grueling task of surviving.
This weekend, I will walk with many of my fellow survivors in Anchorage at the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention's Out of the Darkness Walk. Before suicide entered my own life, I had never heard of this walk. Grief will be there, but also immense hope.
We walk for the same thing — to prevent death by suicide. We walk to raise awareness and as a reminder that we have to continue to talk about suicide and mental health and bring these issues out of the darkness. We walk as a reminder to check in on our loved ones, especially those you know are struggling with mental health issues. Even if they seem to be doing well, let them know you are there. Don't wait. And if you are in pain, depressed or just feeling down, reach out. Seek help. Please. In Alaska, we have to do better, we have to save more lives, we have to bring the numbers of death by suicide down.
If you need help right now, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255) or contact the Crisis Text Line by texting TALK to 741-741.
The Out of the Darkness Walk will take place Saturday, May 12, on the Delaney Park Strip. Registration for the walk will begin at 8 a.m. and the walk itself will start at 10 a.m.
Megan Baldino lives and works in Anchorage.