I’ve always loved summers in Ottawa. It’s festival after festival, outdoor theatre production after outdoor theatre production. It’s sinfully hot; sometimes there are thunderstorms. I can travel almost everywhere on my bicycle. People come out of hiding, out of hibernation. Especially last summer, when things were finally starting to open up after the worst of a gruelling pandemic.
But for me, last summer sucked. Because on June 15, 2022, my girlfriend died by suicide.
My girlfriend was a very private person, so I won’t go into the details of her life, or her work, or what an extraordinary person she was. But I will say that, as you might imagine, her suicide broke me. I couldn’t fully break down, of course, because I’m a solo parent, and my daughter, almost two and half years old at the time, needed me. As I believe in being transparent with children, I told her as soon as she asked about my girlfriend that we wouldn’t be seeing her anymore because she died, and it was very sad, and we were going to miss her, and it was okay to talk about it.
I tried to manage everything in a healthy way, but those of you who have experienced the grief of losing someone to suicide know that there’s really no way to get by unscathed. Despite my best efforts, I found myself floundering. In order to be there for my daughter and for myself, I had to stop working for a while, as I had limited capacity. After the first couple of weeks of supportive visits and condolences, people started to move on with their lives – and through July, especially, I felt very much alone in my grief.
By September I was back at work at my wonderfully supportive work environment. Routine set in. For brief periods, I was able to focus on the tasks at hand; other times, I found myself staring into space. Often, I felt raw, on the brink of crying, of having a panic attack, my emotions volatile. I really needed another break, but the school year was busy, and it never felt like the right time.
In March, I booked a flight to London, England (where I lived for four years in my twenties) for my daughter and me: we would be there for four weeks in the summer, leaving the first week of July and returning the first week of August. This trip has since expanded to a train journey across Europe with stops in Paris, France; Basel, Switzerland; Venice, Italy; and Amsterdam in the Netherlands. Even though my daughter is young – now nearing three and a half years old – I know she is a good traveller, having visited England briefly with me last October for my grandmother’s funeral.
I should mention that while I was, of course, saddened by my grandmother’s death, I acknowledge that she lived a beautifully long life, full of adventure and love and tennis. I miss her, and I wish my daughter could have known her – but I do not grieve for her in the same way I grieve for my girlfriend’s life cut short by suicide.
So here I am, doing a few last checks on the impressively little baggage my daughter and I are bringing for a month away from home: just a carry-on suitcase and a backpack. Am I crazy? Yes, I am – crazy in love with my gorgeous child and determined to live vivaciously with her in the face of grief. To see the world with fresh eyes. To fill our hearts with new memories. To conquer the world one train ride at a time.
I’ve always loved Ottawa in July. But we’ll be back in August, and Ottawa is pretty spectacular then, too.
Jessica Ruano 