When Suicide Happens
It’s incredibly tragic, but the reality is … suicide happens. The word itself is hushed, shunned, or at best, spoken in whispers. Yet it begs to be acknowledged, aches to be resolved. When suicide happens to someone you know, perhaps someone you love, it shatters your world. No, I’m sorry. That’s an understatement. It really fucks with your world. Even so, please know that it can get better. How do I know? I’ve been there. I was on the other end of a phone call telling me that someone I dearly loved had just committed suicide. I remember my legs collapsing in the kitchen, the visceral scream. I remember the pain, the anger, the guilt, the sadness, the blame and other emotional minions that, for a time, overwhelmed my mind, my soul, and my life. Thanks to very loving and supportive family and friends, I found ways to acknowledge the pain, to reconcile the loss. And I didn’t let the suicide permanently suffocate my soul, my spirit. I’m just a survivor; not an expert. Even so,
