Saturday, March 9, 2019

31,536,000 seconds; 525,600 minutes; 8,760 hours, 52 weeks, 365 days, 8,409,600 breaths since Travis left this earth...

This is a blanket I made in honor of Travis -


Death is such a waste. Especially when it comes swooping in at such a young age. Travis didn’t live to see the legacy of brokenness he left behind. All the hope of what could have been.

I have been sad, but I have also been angry. The rage that boils over with my tears is raw and rough and real. Most of the time, I try hard to hide it. I don’t want to share it, and anyway, what difference would it make? How could most possibly understand? But there are people who understand. Those who try, despite their distance from a tragedy like this, to get inside my head, to walk inside my heart and love it’s darker corners without judgment. And there are those who understand because they’ve been in my shoes, cried my tears, and buried a loved one full of self-inflicted battle scars. I share my story for them. For the others like me who have lost a loved one to suicide. I share it for you, dear reader, who feel the strangeness of these tragedies we’ve been forced to live through. To live with. And for those who will live through it.

Suicide is not like other deaths. It’s as sudden like a car crash or a heart attack…and it’s grueling as a battle with cancer. It leaves you bleeding with doubts like stab wounds that, sure, prayer and time can suture…but they still leave scars. You grieve even the fact that you can’t grieve like other people, who at least have the right to be angry at cancer, or the car crash, not the corpse.

 

I’m finding healing and a certain modicum of peace with God. And you–daughter, son, mother, father, the friend of a suicide victim–you are not alone, either. I know you have questions plaguing you in the dark, because they were mine, too. When you don’t know if your tears are sorrowful or just plain bitter, I know it doesn’t really matter, because either way, they need to fall. I do not believe it is selfish; it’s a step. A step on the road you were forced to step onto through no fault of your own. Because IT. IS. NOT. YOUR. FAULT. AND. IT'S. NOT. YOUR. LOVED. ONE'S. Even if it feels that way sometimes (and it's okay to feel that way sometimes). Remember to be kind to yourself and to others. Life is short. Tell those that you love that you love them. If you are having suicidal thoughts, PLEASE tell someone. You may think people don't care, but suicide is devasting to those who are left behind. Remember They Mattered and You Matter!


Thank you to those who have gone before me, who has lit the path for me. For those yet to come, look for those in front of you, they are there to help guide you on this journey.


We are not the first family to lose a loved one to suicide, and sadly, we will NOT be the last. The numbers seem to grow year by year. We all miss our family and friends lost, and there is a sort of cold comfort in that, in knowing we are not alone.


 

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