Angel-versary

Today is the 6th anniversary of the day my son died.  Its never an easy day for me.  Mom says she knows what its like, my sister died of pancreatic cancer.  

But its not the same.

Sis was diagnosed and lived three years longer than was expected. That gives a person's mind time to reconcile to the expected. 

But I happened to be reading this today:  

• "Things are never, ever the same again. People who haven’t been to that other place can never really understand how hard it is for the travelers who return, travelers like us, to pretend that nothing has changed.” 

Finding a loved one who has died by suicide is different somehow. There are so many unanswered questions, so many thoughts like what you could have done different, said different, could you have changed the outcome?  

I will never get answers to those questions.  I try not to burden others with the details of finding my son six years ago.  Death by suicide leaves a stigma, something that's not spoken of, almost as if it were "catchy".  

As a society, where have we gone wrong? What creates situations that result in suicide rates increasing over the years?  There is a lot of shame and blame that gets heaped on those left behind when a loved one makes that decision.  

I miss my son every day. And I never stop asking why.

Please remember you can dial 988 at any time if you need someone to talk to. 

Three. Long. Years.

 Dear Brian.

It's been three years today since you left my life, left this Earth.  Grief is something you never get over, it's just something you learn to live with.  Some days are better than others, but not a single day goes by that I don't think of you, to remember some adventure we had, the laughs we shared.  Sure, we had our tough times, but that happens between all parents and their kids. 

Every day can be a challenge for me.  Sure, I still do the "regular" stuff:  work, chores, errands.  But it's the other things that are harder for me now.  Doing things alone isn't as fun any more.  I miss having you along on my strange adventures and odd ideas.  I remember the many different times we hiked up on Superstition Mountain.  I remember the many times we drove to Cali to see the grandparents.  

Jake has finally decided to move to AZ and he bought a house in Chandler!  It'll be another 10 days before he can finally get into his house.  He's excited to get started on life here.  I hope he ends up liking it!   You know as well as I do that starting over somewhere isn't always the easiest thing, but he's much better at the people skills than you and I are.  

I've painted a few rocks in your memory, I still post photos and such on your memorial page and on your facebook page.  Whether one person or ten sees it, it doesn't matter to me.   Posting things is the way to help me remember you, to keep your memory alive.  

I love you, I miss you every day.  I can wish it over and over that things had been different, but that doesn't change any thing.  You'll never be forgotten.

Love,

Mom

Angelversary #2

Dear Brian,

It's been two years since you committed suicide.  I struggle with your choice, with whatever it was that decided your fate.  But the worst is the not knowing what I could have done, what I should have done, what I didn't see, what I didn't know.  

On today, the worst anniversary ever, I bounce back and forth between the horror of finding you and the joy of remembering you.  Your sense of humor, the little things you used to do, the way you put up with the crazy ideas I had off and on over the years.  I love to dig up old photos of you and remember the things we used to do, the places we've been.  Your tolerance for the weird things I envisioned in my head that you helped me to accomplish.  Like painting stripes on the concrete block fence in the back yard.  Or driving 3 hours to have a moonlight summer hike.  Or going off on a "treasure hunt" called Letter Boxing.  

And in spite of all the odd things, you were also always there when something needed to be done.  To finish the unfinished garage, to painting a room, to installing a new disposal or new faucets.  Digging up plants.  Planting new plants.  Installing a brick planter, or hauling all of the rock from the front yard to the back yard, one wheelbarrow at a time.   Or, going on an icy Sunday drive through Dayton after a crazy snowstorm, just so we can get photos.  lol   

I miss you.  Every single day.  There's nothing else left when you lose a child.  That's the hardest thing a parent does - mourn the loss of a child.  It's been a hard road.  I don't discuss this with very many people, and that's my decision.  It's not easy being a survivor of the loss of someone by suicide.  It's the unanswered questions, the lack of answers for people who are well meaning but tend to ask anyway.  

I know your last note to me wished me to be happy.  It's been difficult, but every day I try my best.

I love you.

Mom

PS:   It's Pizza and Pepsi for dinner!!  xoxoxo