Our boys are starting high school next year. You should be here. Four short years and they will be ‘adulting’ out in the real world. You’ll miss it.
It was finally sunny this week. You’re missing it. It snowed. You missed that, too. Funny movies coming out, art projects from school, family celebrations, graduations, weddings…you will miss it all.
When my thoughts race with all you gave up on being here for, I get angry. So angry. And sad.
It’s not anger and sadness for me…I feel it for your family. Your babies, your sister, your momma. You robbed them of memories that they should be making. Your friends. So many adventures and laughs we won’t get to share with you.
I know being angry is all part of processing the loss when suicide happens. But no one tells you just how often and long the anger lasts. It’s been a month and I want to give you the silent treatment. How does that work now? I can’t just ignore your texts or calls because I’m furious with you. Can’t send you to voicemail or pretend you’re off some where and I just haven’t seen you for a while…
I can’t understand, I can empathize…but understanding… I just can’t. You’re missing so much, Cara. Every moment of happiness will have a tinge if sadness now. Because every time we laugh or smile…the sadness and harsh truth that you should be here creeps in. It’s like a thief. Stealing part of every joyful moment that has and will happen. Watching your kids grow up, how can you miss that?
My soul is crushed that you thought we would all be better without you here. That the darkness and depression had you believing that your life was better being ended. I want to hold you so damn tight and beg you to stay. Tell you we love you, I love you, until you believe it. Until you feel it. Until you can love yourself.
Fumblingthru 