Distress and Melissa,"
writes Frank Page, "were rarely very far away from each other." Some
sources of that distress, like cancer, were beyond her control, but
sinful habits and destructive life choices also played a pivotal role.
Distress and Melissa would remain entwined until Page's daughter, one of
three, committed suicide at age 32. After years of grief, Page, a
longtime pastor and former Southern Baptist Convention president, has
decided to tell his family's story in Melissa: A Father's Lessons from a Daughter's Suicide
(B&H). CT associate editor Matt Reynolds spoke with Page about
Melissa's turbulent life, the aftermath of her suicide, and the
challenge of shepherding other fragile families through seasons of
darkness.
How would you describe your daughter?
Melissa is little in stature, about 98 pounds of pure fire. She is a
vivacious young lady who lit up the room with her smile and endeared
herself to others. But she is also a young lady who, from early on,
struggled in many areas of her life. The struggles never stopped. They
changed in nature sometimes, and in their severity, but she struggled
her whole life.
You certainly don't present an airbrushed portrait of Melissa. How were
you able to be so candid about the chronic patterns of sin and
disobedience in her life?
I felt that if this book was really going to touch a lot of lives, it
was going to have to be transparent. For over two years after Melissa's
death, I was not transparent about her. I didn't lie, and if someone
wanted to talk about her, I certainly did. But I really began realizing
that if this book was going to make a true impact—and hopefully among
people considering suicide themselves—I needed to be honest. In the
Christian community, sometimes, there's a lack of transparency and a
lack of honesty, and it just would have been false if I had tried to
pull a curtain over the reality of her life.
Why go to the effort of writing the book, if it involved such painful memories?
At the outset, I thought it might be cathartic, and therapeutic for me.
And so I began writing, thinking it might help me deal with the loss of
a daughter. But then I quickly began to realize that there's a huge
epidemic of suicide, and so many people are dealing with this. And so I
decided to put my pride aside, my love for privacy, and even a
protective spirit toward my daughter. And I decided that the best way to
honor her memory was by helping people in the name of the Lord.
How have you and your family dealt with the aftermath of Melissa's suicide?
From early on, we resolved that we would not blame each other. We all
recognize we could have done things better. I could have been a better
father. My daughters perhaps could have done something different to help
their sister. We all know that, and we're honest about that. But we
also realize that usually, honestly, we did the best we knew at the
time.
We're open with one another. We talk about Melissa. We miss her, and at
holidays and birthdays, we talk about how there's a place at the table
missing, a big place. And so we hold onto each other and support each
other. We pray through it. We realize that God's grace really is
sufficient. At some point, when something like this happens, of this
magnitude, you have to ask: Do we believe what we've taught, preached,
read, and said all these years? Does God really come through in the dark
times? And the answer is he does, and he did. And he has for all of us.
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