When you’ve lost a daughter (or son) to suicide, you can do one of two things. You can #1. You grieve, get up and move on as best you can, try to be strong, be an advocate for mental health and cherish the time you had with your child. Or # 2, you can sit around the house immobilized with grief, thinking of the what if’s, whys, and how she suffered and you didn’t know it, and feel like you are going to die at any moment. Every time you do try to go out, you run home as fast as you can in tears. At this point, I don’t know which one of these is going to win out. Currently, the latter is ahead by a long shot.
I absolutely feel there should be a new word put in the dictionary to describe the pain I’m in at losing my wonderful, wonderful, daughter who was my kindred spirit. I will never mend from her loss and my soul bleeds at the loss of her.
Her memory is everywhere, everywhere I turn around I have visions of her like a slide show in my head from the time she was a baby until just before she died, and lying in that dreaded casket.
I’m jealous. I’m jealous of hearing about students graduating this year from medical school. When her class graduates without her in 2015 I may tear my hair out for the loss of what could have been. The son in law I’ll never have with her, the grandchildren that will never be.