The phone rang on Nov. 23, 2014. When I heard the words, “Are you Donna Tatem, mother of Richard Tatem?” I knew that Brennan was gone. It was at that very second that my life would change forever. I knew that my son had been struggling with depression, but I trusted that the care of a local psychiatrist would be a band-aid until I could make a trip to Malibu. I was wrong.
Of course, I didn’t know the depth of his pain, his paralyzing fear of failure or that he had been self-medicating with a variety of substances in addition to his prescribed medication. I hate that I didn’t know.
A year has passed, and I remain a mother in pain, grasping to comprehend the thought that he is really gone. They say that time heals all wounds, but for me, I am not so sure.
Like most survivors of suicide, I am filled with doubts and questions. Could I have done more? Were there signs that I missed? Sometimes the presence of his absence is overwhelming.
Despite the fact that my world stopped spinning that day, life in general moves on and I am forced to face the question, “now what?”
The answer to that lies in this open letter to you, the students of Pepperdine. Consider this the letter I could have sent to Brennan. Consider it the letter that your own parent would send to you. Read it, reflect and please help me honor Brennan with your response.
Dear Students of Pepperdine,
First and foremost, I want you to know that God loves you. He loves you with a depth and breadth that you can’t even fathom. How do I know? It’s simple — he is a parent. I know how much I loved my child and would have done anything to protect him from harm.
You are beloved and worthy of love. Never forget that.
It is by God alone that I have survived the past year. He has quietly sat and wept with me in the depths of my despair. By his grace, he allowed happy memories to surface, and they felt like oxygen as I was drowning in sorrow.
Second, I pose questions. How are you? Are you OK? Are you feeling overwhelmed? Do you feel yourself pulled to darkness over light? Does sadness feel so familiar that you are numb? If so, I beg you to reach out.
Do not self-medicate. It may seem harmless, but you cannot predict how your body and your mind might respond. Call home and talk to your parents about being homesick. Seek out a counselor and let them help you redefine success. Don’t hesitate to ask for help. Remember the first thing that I said — you are beloved, you are worthy of love and you deserve happiness.
Third, I challenge you to step up. Oftentimes, those who are in the most pain are unable to reach out for themselves. It is up to the rest of us to take action. Do you see someone who seems distant and distracted, or someone who has lost weight or interest in activities? If so, talk to them or a trusted advisor. Trust me, the hardest thing in life is to stand before a coffin wishing you had done more.
Lastly, I want to thank you. Thank you for your kind notes of remembrance and your letters of support. Thank you for sharing your own stories of depression. Thank you for being brave enough to ask for help. By reaching out to me, you have become my family.
I am praying for each and every one of you.