The Catalyst of a Broken Heart
After my sister died, I did a lot of walking. I’d walk loops in woods behind my house; two, three, four times on the same trail.
Author: Sarah Sterrett
After my sister died, I did a lot of walking. I’d walk loops in woods behind my house; two, three, four times on the same trail. By Sarah Sterrett
Two years ago, my younger sister and only sibling died by suicide. Suicide has touched me. No, let me rephrase that, suicide has raked it’s claws across me, dug in, and refused to let go. I’m now what is commonly referred to as a “survivor of suicide.” By Sarah Sterrett
My favorite person in the world isn’t here anymore. All the trips I wanted us to take, the late-night chats yet to be had, cups of our favorite tea yet to be enjoyed. I don’t know what the solution is, but I do know that she’d want me to keep running. By Sarah Sterrett
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