But I hold those parts with greater compassion and understanding for us both. And I hold the harder truths of our relationship, the times of deep pain, conflict, and hurt. I hold deep within me all of the good and happy times we shared. If you had revealed it all to me, I would’ve helped you. I will always regret not seeing how deep your wounds were. And won’t it be lovely when mom comes to visit and she can sit beside me? We’ll swing and reminisce together.ĭad, I’ll always be sad and sorry that you felt so alone at the end of your life. I want to sit on my swing, stare at the trees we are planting this spring, and think of you at peace. But when I think of you on that front porch swing at our home in Atlanta, I have a vision of you at peace, content, finding joy in the quietest and simplest of things. It haunts me that at the end of your life, the voices in your head drowned out all of the beauty of the life and legacy that surrounded you. You see, the hardest part of your suicide is thinking about all of the pain and turmoil you carried into your last moments on this earth. This year, I’ve asked for a front porch swing and it is being built as I write this. I think I finally figured it out though dad. My life here is all firmly rooted in the chapter that came after your death. But here in Colorado, I have struggled to create a place and space that I can go to and be with my memories. And of course, if we were still in Atlanta, I’d sit on the porch swing you loved so much and stare at the magnolia tree to feel your presence. When I go to Florida, I stand on the beach and feel you in the sounds of the ocean. If I lived in New York I could visit your grave. It’s been hard not having a place to remember you here. I dare say you would’ve envied it as well. I know you would have admired that kind of courage. They are brave and bold, not afraid of trying new things and stepping into new and uncomfortable spaces. They are a force for good in a world so often longing for that. They are filled with compassion and empathy, they believe deeply in justice and working for change. But more than that, you would be so proud of the very fine human beings they are. They are going to accomplish amazing things in the world. Yes, you would be proud of their achievements and aspirations. Remembering you as you lived, in all of your complexity, not just as you died. It took up the space I wanted for more fond and joyful remembrance. There was no more room for it in my heart. I let all of that go when I wept at your graveside last year. I was angry at God and I was angry at myself for all that I did not see, and for not saving you from yourself. I was angry that it was so hard for me to pick up the shattered remnants of the person I was before. I was angry at the wreckage your suicide had left behind. I am not sure I could’ve held myself upright amidst the collective grief, trauma, loss, and anxiety that surrounded and at times enveloped me. I cannot imagine carrying those burdens along with me this past year. There was so much I needed to say to you, so much I needed to release and forgive in those moments I spent at your grave. I’ve been thinking about how grateful I am that I got to visit you at the cemetery just weeks before this pandemic really took hold. But I have not given up, though there are times when I’ve really wanted to. There has been a lot of grit and determination involved on my part. But I have also done the very hard work through therapy and I know it is not resiliency alone that has carried me forward. The good news is, I have learned that I have the resilience to pick myself up again each time. Some days when I am stronger they are like a painful jab, and when my wounds are open, they can take hold and bring me to my knees. I have learned that triggers about suicide loss lie in wait around every corner and navigating them can be exhausting. It can be a fleeting thought that comes on its own, or it can be a trigger that brings about a tsunami of remembrance and pain. And if I am being honest, each day is still touched by the way in which you died. It took so many years of wading through layers of trauma to reach that place. It has gotten easier to think about you in life, to hold some of the more joyful moments that we shared. How I remember you varies from day to day, sometimes from moment to moment. There is not a day that goes by that I do not think about you. In some ways, it feels like a lifetime has passed, and in other ways, it feels like it was just yesterday. It’s hard to believe that today marks 6 years since you died.
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