Hopewell ARP Church, Blackstock, SC Mills Palmer Bigham's grave sight

One year ago today, I looked in my younger brother’s eyes before departing on his trek to St Simons Island, Georgia to visit our parents, and said “Mills, I love you. I’m glad you’re my bother and I want you to stay strong and remember that we all love you and will continue to find ways to help your psychological struggles so you can find peace. Have a safe trip, soak up lots of love from mom and dad and I look forward to your return.”

Mills looked at me and said, “I love you too, Anna.” But what his eyes were really telling me was goodbye.

Just 30 hours later on October 19, 2009, my father’s good friend arrived at my door step to deliver a message that I never wanted to hear. My little brother, the jokester, charming, handsome, good natured fellow and my best friend had indeed ENDED his life ON THIS EARTH. In a blink of an eye, my life was never going to be the same, and today my life is forever changed.

My experience as a suicide survivor has been an emotional rollercoaster ride, and I must remember that as impossible as this journey may seem right now, I know I will survive this, too. Mills’s pain is over and now it’s time to start healing mine. Every day has been a constant struggle to enjoy the same things and to find peace within myself as my life allowed before his death.

Recently I was asked, “What do you think when you look at this photo of your brother?” My immediate response was “I think about how many other people are struggling with severe depression and suicidal thoughts, and HOW THEY believe just as my brother did, that there’s no other way out, NO FUTURE, NO VISION OF GETTING WELL than ENDING their life ON EARTH. I wonder what it will take to cease the number of suicides…especially among our military.”

Following that question was a question that caused significant pause, almost leaving me speechless. “Anna, what do you feel when you look at this photo of your brother?” I couldn’t find an answer. I realized that even after one year of grieving my brother, that I was still numb. His death is still raw. One year later, I have yet to find peace amongst the emotional turmoil and I’m still struggling with the ability to just simply FEEL…FEEL SOMETHING. To me, the grieving process of a survivor of suicide requires learning how to FEEL again, not feel better, but to just FEEL.

Through my grieving process I’ve learned that metaphors are a great way to describe what’s going on inside of me. Metaphors have helped me discover my emotions and thoughts of my own, but more importantly, have also helped me express my stage of grief to others. I’ve learned that each day is a new day and simply getting out of bed and brushing my teeth is a success. I’ve learned to remind myself that it is okay to cry, to get in my car and yell at the top of my lungs, and I’ve learned that it’s also okay to laugh. And most of all, I’ve learned that if I don’t keep post-it notes on my walls and on the dashboard of my car to remind me “Anna, remember to take care of yourself today,” that I will not remember to practice self care.

Through this tough, unique, unexpected and chaotic journey…I’ve made the choice to channel my grief into positivity. I’ve learned that the best way for me to heal is to talk about my experience and brother, Mills to all who will listen. I’ve chosen to be an advocate for suicide prevention. I’ve chosen to establish, Hidden Wounds, an organization whose mission is to provide greater psychological counseling for veterans and military personnel in need. In this capacity, I’ve made it my privilege to honor the many who have served our nation while creating a legacy for Marine, Corporal Mills Palmer Bigham.

Our mother, Margaret Ann Palmer always said, “Mills is a gift from God.” Through all the joys while living, and through all the emotional turmoil after death, my mother’s words have become a greater reality than ever before. Mills is a gift from God, he was while on Earth, and his death to heaven is too, a gift from God today. His death was not in vain, and I am reminded of that everyday through Hidden Wounds.

Remember survivors, it’s never too early to start healing. Remember, the stigma surrounding mental health treatment and suicide will not cease without shouting loudly your reasons through personal experience for it to stop. Remember that you didn’t choose suicide…it chose you. And when the “Why’s” become too strong, allow yourself to find a lighthouse to lead you to a safe place where you can allow the “How’s” to be easy.

- Anna Palmer Bigham, October 17, 2010 AFSP Closing Remembrance Ceremony

            He, like thousands of young men and women across the country, made a conscience decision and responded to a higher calling after the events of 9/11 to “preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, both foreign and domestic.”  His subsequent tours were his personal call to arms in his country’s quest to rid the world of terrorism.  And whether you personally agree or disagree with our country’s efforts in this mission, we should all be grateful to him, and to all military personnel, for their service.

            Ironically, however, it was his triumphant return from his service that began his downward spiral as a returning civilian.  He’d done his time, he’d served abroad, and miraculously he had returned home.  I remember the way Anna’s entire demeanor lit up when she announced he was coming home, even for a visit.  She always managed to put her hectic life on hold for two weeks so she could spend quality time with her brother – cook-outs and parties in the front yard, lasting late in to the night – filled with joy and celebration at the safety of Mills and the chance to spend another moment with him.  That was time I know he and his entire family cherished.  Those will forever be beautiful memories.

            When that mighty Marine returned home for good though, he wasn’t the same Mills his family or friends had said goodbye to years before.  Life for him, was not as he had left it.  He wasn’t able to be the fun-loving, adventurous, laid back Mills we knew.  Now he was burdened, suffering, lost, alone, and desperate.  His heart was darkened.  So darkened that sadly, he may not have been able to see or feel the love of Christ.  Sometimes we feel so alone and so weighed down by our pain and disappointments in life that we feel cut off and numb to any relief or comfort even from God.  But the Bible tells us that God in His loving grace NEVER abandons us.

Difficulties in dealing with some of the things he had seen and done overseas were unshakable and resulted in Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  They affected his sleep, they affected his daily functions, they affected his family.  He became afflicted with thoughts, images, and sounds that caused him incredible suffering.  His family saw his desperation and sought help through multiple avenues.  However, despite their best efforts, Mills was unable to get the treatment he needed.  Mills was living with enemies on an even closer than domestic basis.  He was trained to protect himself and others from the demons that were controlling his mental and emotional stability.  All we can assume is that he concluded that the best way to fight the demons was to kill them.

            Obviously his loss is significant, as are the thousands of veterans who make the same choice due to lack of treatment caused by overwhelming demand.  In fact, the Veterans of Foreign Wars reports that “since 9/11, more military personnel and veterans have committed suicide than have been lost on the battlefields in Iraq and Afghanistan combined.”  Like Mills, those veterans sought deliverance from the intense suffering they experienced as a result of their service to our country.

            Tragically for us, but thankfully for him, Mills was granted that deliverance by our loving Lord.  We are each placed on God’s earth for a purpose.  The Bible tells us that God loves each of us and has a plan for us.  Rather than be sad for Mills, rejoice that he fulfilled God’s plan for him…otherwise he would not have been called home to Heaven.  The Bible is full of stories of deliverance…example after example of our gracious Lord removing pain and suffering from our lives and curing demons.  What happened to Mills, from birth to death, was not an accident.  It was all carefully orchestrated by our Creator and Redeemer.  When His path for us comes to an end, there is a beautiful room in Heaven waiting for us.  Imagine the peace and tranquility Mills is finally experiencing in his room!  Praise the Lord for that.  The prayers all of us offered for healing and help for Mills have been answered…he is with the ultimate healer and is no longer experiencing the extensive mental and emotional devastation he suffered here on Earth in his last days, weeks, and months.  Mills’ mission is complete.

            I’d like to share a poem…although the author is unknown, I think it is a message Mills would like us to hear.

To my dearest family, some things I’d like to say,
But first of all to let you know that I arrived okay.
I’m writing this from Heaven, where I dwell with God above,
Where there are no tears or sadness, there is just eternal Love.

Please do not be unhappy, just because I’m out of sight,
Remember that I’m with you, every morning, noon and night.
That day I had to leave you, when my life on earth was through,
God picked me up and hugged me, and said, ‘ I welcome you’.

‘It’s good to have you back again.
You were missed while you were gone.
As for your dearest family, they’ll be here later on.
I need you here so badly as part of my big plan.
There’s so much that we have to do, to help our mortal man’.

Then God gave me a list of things he wished for me to do.
And foremost on that list of mine, is to watch and care for you.
I will be beside you, every day of the week and year,
And when you’re sad I’m standing there, to wipe away the tear.

And when you lie in bed at night, the day’s chores put to flight

God and I are closest to you in the middle of the night.
When you think of my life on Earth, and all those loving years,
Because you’re only human, there’s bound to be some tears.

One thing is for certain, though my life on Earth is over,
I am closer to you now than I ever was before.
And to my many friends, trust God knows what is best.
I am not far away from you, I’m just beyond the crest.

There are rocky roads ahead for you and many hills to climb,
Together we can do it, taking one day at a time.
It was my philosophy and please I’d like for you,
To give unto the world, so the world will give to you.

If you can help someone who’s in sorrow or in pain,
Then you can say to God at night, my day was not in vain.
And now I am contented that my life it was worthwhile,
Knowing as I passed along the way, I made somebody smile.

When you’re walking down the street and I am on your mind,
I’m walking in your footsteps, only half a step behind.
And when you feel a gentle breeze of wind upon your face,
That’s me giving you a great big hug, or just a s oft embrace.

When it’s time for you to go from that body to be free,
Remember you are not going, you are coming home to me.
I will always love you, from that place way up above,
I will be in touch again soon.
P.S. God sends his love.

            We will all miss him because we all loved him, and will continue to love him.  But just as Mills’ life was not lived in vain through his value to us as a son, a brother, a friend, a Marine, nor should his death be in vain either.  I would encourage each of you to leave here today with a mission of your own.  The motto of the Veterans of Foreign Wars is to “honor the dead by helping the living.”  Honor Mills’ death by helping his comrades at arms.  Make a contribution to the VFW, volunteer to visit VA hospitals in your area, say a word of thanks to those you see in uniform, SEEK other ways to help veterans and their support groups cope with this national tragedy.  And when you do, remember to do it for Mills.

- Marnie Hudson   10/23/2009

Family photo at Camp Lejeune, NC.

Mills arrived after several false alarms, “John, your wife just called and said come home, the baby is on the way!” And back home I would drive as fast as possible until on April 8, 1986 Mills finally arrived. There are many fine excellent memories of my son, but I never could have imagined his end. His final day is topmost in my mind. Seeing him prone in the back of his old Tahoe, dried blood flowing down his neck in seven or eight streams, his beautiful face gray, and dead, a 410 shotgun charge above his nose into his brain, cops all around. I look into the back, knowing what I will see. “Sir, please get back.” But he is my only son, Mills, he was a Marine, he had PTSD, oh no. Then the investigator interviews me, and I give him whatever details I know. We walk upstairs and tell Margaret Ann, his mother. All is a dream. We expected this for months, hoped it would not happen, he sought help from the VA to no avail, government health care rules without reason. I walk back downstairs to the parking level – they have my son zipped up in a black body bag, rolling him away. These final visions of my son are foremost in my vision now. I cannot erase them. They run continuously.

I am looking at you, talking to you, but on a dual screen I see Mills my son dead in the back of the Tahoe, then being rolled away.

This should never happen to you. It should never happen to Patriots who serve America. It should never happen to your son or daughter who enlists in military service to our Country. It does. Today we fight piecemeal wars. We send our sons and – God forbid- our daughters – to fight with hands behind their backs.  We do not fight to win for our freedom, our rights, our Constitution. But this is not what our foundation is about.

Hidden Wounds is about finding help for our military who suffer the consequences of war. It is about those who fall through the cracks. Those who die because they drink and won’t be treated. All who serve are wounded somehow. But why should your children, even if it is a few statistically, die by their own hand? Mills did what was asked by the Marine Corps and our Country. He enlisted to kill Osama, he told me remembering 911.

Is there a way to prevent even one death from suicide caused by PTSD. I think so. Please help to keep another family from experiencing what mine has – when your veteran kills themselves, they kill their family also.

Helping even one family survive PTSD is the sole purpose of Hidden Wounds.

John Mills Bigham

December 16, 2009