A Complicated Death Begot Complicated Grief
I didn’t want to leave Liza behind, but I desperately wanted to be happy again. The old me was gone, though.
Topic: suicide loss
I didn’t want to leave Liza behind, but I desperately wanted to be happy again. The old me was gone, though.
When all feels lost, you are still worth fighting for. The help you need, the hope you're trying to feel—we want you to have the chance to find it.
I lost my son to suicide. Then, I lost the necklace I got to remember him.
Hope is powerful and necessary but sometimes that’s not how the story ends. Sometimes, your sister dies and you just have to keep living without her.
I want to be angry at a disease, a car accident, something.
Your story isn't finished—but you have to make the choice to keep writing it.
July 27, 2019, began as an unremarkable summer day.
How do we hold onto hope, when everything seems bleak?
I’ve heard of it before, this phenomenon where the ones who survive the unthinkable wrestle with immense guilt for the very act of surviving, to a point where they find it difficult to celebrate being alive.
I made this for you, friend. I hope it reminds you that no moments are worthless.
In the wake of his suicide, I became suicidal, a common side-effect of surviving a suicide.
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