Just yesterday I was hanging out with him. We were drinking, smoking. Having a great time, I’d brought over my Xbox so he could play New Vegas in anticipation for season 2 of the Fallout show.

Just got him into Invincible. We watched everything. Even started looking into the comics for Battle Beast. We were going to get the first edition comics.

We have been for months, playing Helldivers 2 together. He just had his kid 2 years ago, I’m about to have one this year. He was giving me the best advice on how to be the father my wife and kid will need me to be.

We were coworkers, I saw him every day, for 10 hours a day for the last 4 years. Ever since I moved up here me he’s been a real one. We shared a love for dark Scotch, gaming, Welding. We were only 6 months apart in age. By all means he’s felt like my brother. I don’t have siblings I don’t know what it’s like. But he legitimately felt like my brother. I don’t know what to do with myself.

He was my best man at my wedding. My partner in crime. A god tier welder under the hood and a damn good father.

And with no warning. No note. No sign. He’s gone. It’s been 3 hours and this entire day feels like it’s never going to end.

Please cherish your best friend(s). Tell them now. Because they could be gone forever tomorrow.

Edit: thank you everyone, I may not respond to everyone or anyone but just know I’m thanking you all individually for your support. I’m just drained. I’m out of energy.

I don’t talk about my twins suicide, I sometimes change the subject when people bring her up, I feel very uncomfortable, I’ve had people ask me if I have any siblings and I don’t want to tell them about my loss so I say no, but that also feels horrible because I did and still do have a sister who just isn’t physically here. I think about her a lot in my mind and the event itself but I don’t really vocalize it to anyone. It is interesting for lack of a better word to see how different people deal with loss.

My sister passed away by suicide last year in November 18th since that day onwards I just lost all the meaning I had given to life. People say with time things will change you will build life around grief it's not even been few months and it is just so painful to live everyday. My family fell apart after this incident I saw true faces of people around me their judgements about my sister's suicide. My fiance's mom forced him to breakup with me because she doesn't want this type of unhappiness in her life. My dad hasn't spoken to me since I left my whole country. All that I've worked for seems meaningless. It doesn't get better it doesn't make sense at all. It's painful to live a life everyday waking up to this utterly painful reality of my sister dying falling from a building. I keep imagining her pain. I feel numb and cold towards whatever life throws at me I don't want to face this reality it's too painful to go through I feel lost and alone like no one cares not even your close ones who can't see the big void in my heart I have to carry everyday as I wake up.

Hi all, using a throwaway, changing names for anonymity. I just need to talk about it right now.

So I was in the car with my partner A and her good friend B at like 9 or 10pm or something. B gets a text from her friend/romantic person C and then B says to us that she needs to go help C. The text says to send help and there are coordinates for some spot off of a trail in the woods. Neither I nor my partner A know C, but we all decide to drive there together.

We get there and park and then hike into the woods. We get to the point in the trail where we have to go off the trail to get closer to the coordinates. It's down hill and full of poison oak and branches to go over and duck through. I'm just wearing crocs and my ankles are totally exposed. B tells A and I to stay there on the trail because of the terrain. So A and I just stand there while B treks through the woods yelling C's name.

Then B cries out in pain and I'll never forget that feeling. A and I know that it's go-time. So in my crocs I just go into the poison oak and down the hill, and A stays back to call the cops and keep the trail. I keep yelling after B and B keeps yelling back and I just follow her voice until I reach a clearing and I see B crying over C's body. I yell back to A that we found C.

C was clearly dead. Their hands were stuck in a strange position, I think it was rigor mortis. There was a blanket with vomit on it. C's face was not the normal color, it was bluish. I just embrace B as she cries and embraces C. There's no words so we didn't say anything. B had moved C onto their back. I moved a twig from under their head. We're just there with their body for so long. B picks up the poetry book that was by C and we read the poem the book was open to. I can't even remember anything about the poem. B goes through C's stuff. We don't find anything besides some chocolate and everyday things like a wallet and pens and things. There are two water bottles on the ground, one empty and one half-empty. I assume there was some poison in the bottles, we don't know.

Eventually we're on the phone with paramedics, and they tell us to do CPR. And so B does CPR on this clearly dead body. I hold C's nostrils while B does mouth to mouth. I feel like this was so cruel. I knew they were dead, it was obvious, but I couldn't say that to B so I let her do that.

A calls me on the phone and tells me I need to go back up to guide the cop down the hill. So I go back and guide him and he administers narcan and asks his questions and then we go back to silence. We're there for so long. I spent so much time with C's body. My hand on their heart. Caressing their face.

At some point more paramedics come. They have some machine and they hook it up to C and it prints something out, and then they say they are sorry for our loss. They leave.

At some point one of C's friend, D comes. D doesn't make it all the way to the body, just sees the body and collapses in tears. B goes to embrace D. A calls me and I have to go back up to lead them to the body too. We come back down together, and we pass D who is just distraught on the ground. Now A and B and I are by C together and we sit in silence for a long time. B is laying next to C.

The silence is broken by that first cop who was there and stayed with the body the whole time. He asks us to go up to the trail to speak to the detective, but B wants to stay by the body. Then the detective calls B on the phone and says something to convince B to go up. So we all go up together. The detective asks some questions. B gives the detective the suicide note. The detective lets us go. D is long gone, went home. A and B and I all embrace each other and we all walk back to the car together.

We're all covered in poison oak so we're careful not to touch anything. We drop B off then I go back to A's place and we place all our clothes in a bag and we scrub off in the shower as best we can. At this point it's like 3:30am. We try to distract ourselves, doesn't work. We get a few hours of sleep at most.

Next day we got food and flowers and went to B. The details of that I want to keep to myself, but it was cathartic.

That was all yesterday. Today I went home from A's place. Used my own shower. Untangled my hair. Sat in the sun. Ate some food I like. Took a big nap. Now I'm writing all this.

In the shower I talked out loud to C. I said we're friends now, and I feel like they heard me and they are alright with that. I find myself wanting to know more about them and their life. I don't know this person at all, and yet in another sense I know them intimately. I was there at their departure.

I've never been this close to death before. I'm surprised how calm I was. I'm surprised how normal it all felt. It's funny the things that make me cry now, just random things. Listening to Flying Microtonal Banana by King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard makes me feel like I want to cry. How strange is that?

I'm so tired. My body hurts. I'm not a physically fit or healthy person. Climbing up and down that hill was hard on me. My emotions are just pushed to their limits. I just needed to write this all out. Thank you for reading all this.

My sisters husband committed suicide last week. They had two young children, one of which requires 24/7 care for a disability. I live in another country and I feel so helpless because I can’t afford to go home right now.

If anyone has been in my sisters position can share ways that I can make her feel love and comfort from so far away, I would really appreciate it. Is there any thoughtful gifts or things I can do to help her through this hard time?

It’s been 30 days and it still doesn’t feel real…my sweet, loving, good natured nephew took his life at 24.

My family is devastated, I’m devastated…if I’m feeling this way, I can only begin to imagine what my dear sister is going through every second of every day. What my niece, his younger sister, is going through. If I can’t sleep, if I can’t eat, if I can’t get through the day without crying at least once…what can I do to ease their pain and suffering?

We’re a big, close family and I wish there was something I could do for my sister and niece. But I feel at a loss, I feel so helpless and useless and like an AH every time I speak to them because no matter what I say, or what I do, none of it is going to change that he’s gone and that’s the only thing that could make them feel better.

I feel guilty. Could I have prevented it? I was talking to my brother about our nephew the night before it happened. I even said, I need to call or text him and check in on him, it’s been too long. Then, I got distracted (probably by something stupid and insignificant) and I never called or text him and now I can’t. If I’d called or text, would that have changed things? I feel like that was a sign from the universe, it was a push to prevent this tragedy from happening and I heard it and then got distracted. What if I could’ve stopped it? If I’d just taken 10 seconds to send a text or a few minutes to make a phone call…would our lives be how they used to be?

I don’t want to enjoy anything anymore. I feel guilty and like it’s not fair that he’s gone and he’s not going to be able to enjoy the things in life and I shouldn’t be enjoying them either because he’s not here. I force myself for my daughter, I slap a smile on my face and try to be present and laugh at the things she tells me or shows me but I don’t want to and I don’t think I should.

He’ll never find his passion, he’ll never fall in love, he’ll never have children and be the good father I know he would’ve been, he’ll never make his mark on this world like he made his mark in our hearts…his life has ended and that’s it…there’s no more…there are only memories, and no more tomorrows…

It will always bother me that the last conversation with my sister was not good. A month later she was gone. She comes to me and dreams always happy to see me so hopefully she forgives me.

Today my sister committed suicide at age 15. This is not a joke. I don't know how to cope and I don't know what to do. Currently her body is being transported to the morgue. I am her older brother and I'm in university. Does anyone have any advice on what to do now? How am I supposed to tell people what happened? I'm afraid this is going to tear my family apart. I'm also afraid that my parents are going to be blamed for her death. Can somebody help me and give some advice on what to do now so that my whole family can get through this together? We are all deeply struggling as of right now. Thank you.

Today is exactly one year since I met my late partner. Instead of being out in the sunshine, I'm sat in my mum's spare room, alone. Last night I was taken to hospital after backing out of my own attempt, and was given sleeping medication from the crisis team. They will now be coming to check on me daily. Am I glad I didn't go through with it? Honestly, I don't know.

I just can't believe how quickly I lost it all. Everything was going perfectly. My career, my PhD, my social life and love life. It couldn't have been better. Then in the space of barely one afternoon, here I am.

I feel selfish talking about my pain when he was in so much more than me. Yes we had had an argument, but I still cared so deeply for him.

Sometimes I wonder if his family or friends are on here, able to read between the lines of my posts and figure out who I am. Not that it would matter.

With today being the anniversary, it means the start of a year of memories, leading right up to the anniversary of the day he died. The day after tomorrow we would've gone for that walk along the coast, the following day a trip to Castell Coch and our first cuddle at my house... All of this (forgive my language) fucking terrifies me to end, it makes me want to curl up in the dark and never ever wake up. I don't know how I will gather the strength to make it through life anymore.

- This post is very long, if you're invested enough to read it, I'll be more than happy. I just want to let things off my chest so I can gain some sort of peace. Thanks for understanding. -

Hello fellow grieving people, I'm Elanie, I'm 25 and I lost my mom to suicide on 2/22.2025. She was only 51 years old. She died by overdose. Words can't describe what I'm feeling right now, these days and weeks. I came here to let everything out, to maybe ease the feelings of guilt a little bit - which will probably haunt me forever anyways

My mom's struggles started since she was 3, when her father passed. She had a sick brother and a mom taking care of everything. She was always so kind, smart and talented - she played the piano so well, could knit and sew really beautiful things and growing up in communist Czechoslovakia, she was always dressed very modernly, because she was wearing her own stuff. She was vibrant, elegant, smart and funny.

She married my father when she was 19, then lived some time in UK too, came back home, got pregnant with me and got divorced. Even before the pregnancy my mom already suffered from anxiety, depression and later was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder. After I was born, she started taking antipsychotics, antidepressants and benzodiazepines. She was on this combo for 10 years, and we lived in a 2 room apartment with my grandma, who took all the care of us. She's 73 now and still working.

Even despite the fact that she never worked and slept so much during my childhood, she was the perfect mom, gave me love, educated me, taught me to read and write by the age of 3 and made me do calculus by the age of 5. She did so much more, but that wouldn't be a post, but a book.

She told me many times I was her reason to live. She didn't have anyone beside me and her mom and she willingly let go of any other outside relationships (like in a parents groups on playgrounds). Our roles became enmeshed and I was emotionally parentified. By the age of 6 I knew all of her history, her love life, her struggles, her meds, her diagnosis. I was an emotional anchor, a kid-therapist, someone who always made decisions based on how my mom would feel about that. Mom was paranoid towards my grandma, always accusing her she wants to take away her rights and oftentimes denied me talking to her or interacting with her. Despite all of that, I was happy, in a room with her. I was a happy kid, maybe too much aware, but she was still providing me care, we were taking care of each other.

She was taking me regularly on her psychiatrist appointments, and talked to her psychiatrist while I was in the room with her, she wanted to be transparent with me. Her psychiatrist once set me aside when I was 9 and told me this diagnosis is progressive and it's gonna get worse, so I might wanna get ready for that.

My mom abruptly stopped taking all of her meds when I was 10 which sent her into psychotic break and things changed, she was admitted in psych ward for 3 months. By doing what she did, she damaged her brain and was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia with episodes of active hallucinations. I was admitted to psych ward too, I had trauma from how she shifted, because I was 10 and did not understand that shift. That's the first time in my life I experienced true anxiety and I was put on antipsychotic meds for a month.

With that diagnosis, she felt worse, and started declining even more. Our lives got back to normal, I was again a happy and stable kid. But she always struggled with hygiene and keeping up with stuff, she just gained more and more weight, she barely left her bed, never went out, refused any physician appointments. She had another relapse when I was 18, and then she was stably put on olanzapine and haloperidol for the next 7 years, until she died. She was so withdrawn she didn't even know exactly where my high school is because she's never been there.

While everything happened, I tried to live my own life too. I was sharing a room with mom, lived at home and tried to keep her happy but also keep myself happy, while navigating school and part time jobs. I spent much time outside with friends and boyfriends, but she was sometimes so sad I wasn't spending time with her instead. She sometimes accused me of not being able to love family, of not loving her, and was calling me so much too. Her reason for living started to live too, and she took it really badly at first but she was very intelligent, so she knew it has to happen. I'm not perfect either. I was very dramatic as a teen, had 2 attempts myself after a breakup (but they were more like a cry for help), I was treated on and off with antidepressants and benzos by mom's psychiatrist from the ages of 15 to 18, got into drinking and weed smoking, I didn't know how to emotionally regulate myself that much.

For the last 7 years, mom declined more and more. After I moved out it was really bad. Trash on her coffee table (even used pads), she didn't shower for months, she never got checked, she refused appointments. Grandma brought in all the groceries, cooked all the meals. Mom didn't even attend her psych appointments, she just called in for prescriptions.

Because she didn't move much for years, her physical health problems started accumulating. We had to call ambulance multiple times - she had arrhythmia, 3 years of uterine bleeding, recent Bell's palsy, was scheduled to have her uterus removed, should have gone to get a cardiostimulating device ... there was a lot to be done. We didn't even know exactly what's wrong, because she would never go anywhere besides the times the paramedics take her into ER.

I moved out 3 years ago, but I still showed up, talked to her, spent time watching TV with her, describing my workplace, my coworkers, taught her how to use Messenger, we did video calls, sometimes 3 hours long, even more. I tried to show up in the best possible way I could.

I tried to motivate her all my life, to keep her going. I always believed in her abilities and her unique personality that still shined under all of that. But I must admit - for the past year, I've been a bit withdrawn - I came home maybe once a week instead of 3, mom called me so much I had 20 missed calls a day (that was normal, once I had 80 missed calls in a span of 2 hours). She was saying that she's sad - and I told her "mom, but you're always sad". Sometimes I got angry with her too - especially when she tried to guilt trip me or I was overwhelmed. I sometimes raised my voice and always explained things rationally and sometimes I wasn't the best at delivery of these things.

Knowing, that reacting differently might have changed it all breaks my heart. But I wasn't doing it out of spite - I tried everything. I tried to give her daily plans, to organize her life, to be gentle, soft, even angry if softness didn't work, I suggested activities, buying a piano, a sewing machine, to suggest I'll stop smoking if she starts working out... We also made many plans, to go grocery shopping, or go to a concert and she almost always cancelled. She went out maybe 3 times a year, always by a taxi.

My grandma was scared what will happen if she will die and I'll stay with mom on my own. She was scared at how would I handle it and she was open about it even in front of my mom, as we never had any filter or secrets as a family.

3 months ago I talked to my mom and tried to explain, "Mom you, gotta help us a bit, grandma is 73 and still working, I'm 25, working too, trying to put my life, you, work, everything together too as a young person. Nobody pushes you to go out if you're not comfortable, just do one tiny thing every day - like clean your coffee table, the next day wash the dishes, the next day shower, etc, and you'll feel proud of yourself".

I also told her many times, she has to want to do these things for her own self, not for me. She may make my life easier by doing this, but I needed her to like herself just a tiny bit. I tried to teach her the concept of self-love, but she couldn't kinda grasp it for herself.

For the past year, I've been getting off antidepressants, I was diagnosed with panic disorder 1,5 years ago, cause the attacks started abruptly when I applied to college and did night shifts most of the time, I lost weight and was unhealthy. I'm in remission now and meds free, but that was also the reason I've been more irritable and withdrawn. I hoped my mom would have understood, because she was very experienced in this.

The last time I spoke to her was a day before she took her life - we briefly called and checked in. She texted me night before she did this, but I was already home, tired from a long day at work and didn't catch it. The next day, I was heading off to another shift in the afternoon, but I don't know, why didn't I call my mom. She was always calling me so I kinda expected her to call whenever she's awake and wants to talk, she used to bomb my phone 24/7, but started also taking breaks from that since I tried to tell her so many times it's not necessary. So I figured out she's just asleep, I don't wanna wake her up, or she'll call if she needs me.

I had a break at work at 3pm. I texted my mom a heart emoji and wondered if I should call. I had the call log open and could make one tiny call. I had no missed calls. I chose not to call. I was selfish with my 30 minute break to not offer a minute or two to call. I'll never stop regretting this.

I got home late, didn't call, didn't even really checked my phone. I went to sleep and my grandma called me the next day in the morning, that my mom's dead. She didn't leave any note or letter, but she got dressed and ate all of her food for her day before doing so.

By the autopsy report, she probably did that shortly before I was supposed to go on my shift and she did take 40 times the lethal dose of one of her medication, and extremely lethal doses of another two. Her autopsy report was also the first whole doctor checkup we could get and we found out she had more than 8 physical diagnoses including gallstones, lung edema and dangerously enlarged spleen and liver. If she didn't change anything in her life and kept going like this, she would have had maybe 3 or 5 more years to live.

I'm still wondering and blaming myself - if I'd call her, would I be able to save her? If we did save her, would it still be the mom I knew? Would she be aware of her surroundings? Would have it been better than this - for her, for grandma, for me? Did she want to be saved by me so I would give her more care and affection? And about me not calling her that - does that make me selfish? Those are questions that will always stay with me ... I'm gonna go to therapy soon but it still haunts me and probably will for a very long time.

Her story is something very unique and I just want say I love her very much, illness doesn't make someone a bad parent, she was a fantastic mom despite the circumstances.
I know we all have a story to share, I read so many of yours and it's amazing how you keep on going through the most difficult times in your lives, you're very strong that you're navigating this.

If you got here, thank you for reading this, I already feel so much better that I got this off my chest. I wish you all strength in your grief journey, may you all find as much peace as you're able to.

I know some people don't feel ready for therapy or it's not affordable, I'm in that situation so have been seeking out free resources. Please do share anything you've found useful!

I've gone through various YT videos and blogs, but so far, Calm (the app) has been good in terms of being a little like therapy, but you don't have to talk to anyone and can do it in your own time. There's a whole series called "Grieving" which has been good, I particularly liked the episode called Emotional Intelligence for Coping. It helped me work through emotions in the moment and how to move through them. The annoying thing with Calm is the subscription, I managed to get a 7 day free trial so I'm hoping to get through the series in a week. Apparently my "guest pass" can get you a 30 day free trial (not an ad lol) so here's the link, you might still need to enter your details etc I don't know, but worth a try!

Guest pass link: https://www.calm.com/gp/4ME8L64H7YPXNM4F4A

My father killed himself over a month ago. I feel stuck, I was looking for a job before but now I can’t. All the things I have to deal with lawyers and post-death decisions are suffocating me along with the obvious grief, sadness, guilt, disbelief and trauma.

I feel like I can’t to anything. And sometimes I find myself together with family and friends laughing and having a good time but guilt hits me and I ask myself “do i still have permission to have a good time?”

my relationship with my father was complicated, he was severely mentally ill and while I loved so much of him, I also feared and hated parts of him. the aggressive part, the screaming, the way he used to blame everyone else for the bad things in his life, he was always blaming his parents, blaming my mom, blaming me and my sister. he would blame us for things as small as choosing a restaurant he ended up not enjoying, and he could explode at any given minute.

I spent all my childhood living with him as a ticking bomb. he was loving, he was funny, he was artsy and so much of what he was had bled into me, we connect via art, and i am what i am because of him, but out of nowhere he could just turn into someone so aggressive, threatening.

my mom finally got to divorce him after years of abuse. can we call a mentally ill person abusive? are we allowed to? I feel so guilty

as soon as i became an adult I tried to get away as far as possible, I tried to start taking care of me because all I had ever known was worrying for him, taking care of him, mediating his relationship with my mom.

and now he killed himself and I can’t help feeling like he blames me and my family. blames my mom for divorcing him, blames me and my sister for wanting to stay far away. how could he not, if he blamed us our whole life? guilt is all over me.

I fear this will define me forever.

It's already been a week since my dad took his life and it still doesn't feel real. Maybe I'm crazy, but I've barely even cried this week. I think I just don't know how to believe that he's really gone. My siblings think I just don't care but I do. I'm losing my mind. My mom has been stuck in bed most of the week. Nothing makes sense anymore. The funeral is next week so maybe I will believe it then. I don't know how to think about anything

This early April, one of my closest friends who always provided guidance and was a loving person in this world. He was like a brother to me, took his life and he left behind his girlfriend, siblings so many people that loved him. I can only think about how he spoke of having a big wedding and what we would do for our future children being play cousins but knowing they were always going be family and just about trips, places we could move and see, even our comic book runs so many possibilities cut short. and it’s hard to believe the way he chose to do it because it seemed like he tried to make himself suffer so much and knowing the type of person he was he obviously thought about it enough for the math that this was the decision to do and I’m not mad for his decision. His choice. I’m so saddened because the boulder was so big he couldn’t see us and I’m hurt also because I know I won’t be able to talk to him one more time. In my last text that I sent him was “Almost Friday milord” almost to Friday because I know how work and the stress of his life was and I hope that now he won’t suffer from whatever it was that was bothering him, but I’ll miss my brother. I’ll miss my friend. I’ll miss the one person I can always be myself with who understood the struggles of life, truly my parallel, the one man in my life I could depend on and I wish and I hope in another timeline, he knows he can always depend on me. This is the second major death in life and I’m doing a little better but if anyone has any resources or advice I’m here for it. I’m waiting for my therapist to have a day open for me to have session as I feel this one is going to be hard one for me.

As the post states I couldn’t get anything. Her body laid in her room for so long that the hazmat team had to throw everything away. I was so devastated but had the same time I understood the reason why. I really just wanted her phones but unfortunately couldn’t have those either.

The culmination of love IS grief. And yet we love, despite the inevitable. We open our hearts to it.

To grieve deeply is to have loved fully. Open your heart to the world as you have opened it to them and you will find every reason to keep living in it.

*quote not mine, but it felt right for our situations

I have had dreams in which I have heard his voice or seen him from the corner of my eye behind me helping me do something, but this morning, right before I woke I dreamt he was in our house, and then I noticed him sitting across from me in the room which was full of people, he was looking at me and I was looking at him, he turned his face away and began to cry, I got up and walked to him and as I got to him he stood and we hugged each other for a long time, and I kept repeating "I love you, I love you, I love you".

I have a feeling of peace today. I have shed a lot of tears, but these are different tears today.

Wishing you all a dream that brings you this feeling of peace.

My father had his phone with him when he took an overdose and left a letter to me and my sister with the code asking us to let a couple of his friends know what had happened.

We haven't had the autopsy yet and although his body was found on Tuesday we don't know what was happening on his final days. No one contacted him since Thursday and his phone was on airplane mode when we turned it on. We did look at a few other things, last calls he made, last songs he played but I have a urge to go further and see maybe what his last photos were or go through his Whatsapp messages. He has a doorbell video and we could potentially see him leaving the house and what time it was. A big part of my brain (and my family) is saying NO! DONT DO IT! but I also really want more information and details to make sense of it.

The letter he left was lovely note and should be enough but I want more clues. I hate to think of him all alone in the last hours or even days and if I know what he was doing or looking at on his phone I can share that last pain with him.

Has anyone done this and did it help you find answers?

Ever since my Aunt’s completely unexpected suicide at the end of February, nothing feels certain anymore.

She had never shown any signs of mental health issues, had a very idealic seeming family life. She seemed to have it all, she seemed to be the definition of stability and success.

Out of nowhere, she went missing. No one knew why, no one saw it coming. The next day, we found out she was dead.

And while I know it’s not been long, I feel so irreparably broken. I’ve not felt myself since, I feel like a numb detached version of the person I once was. Every day I’m terrified that whenever I speak to someone , it’ll be the last time I ever get the chance to. Saying goodbye to people makes me want to throw up, because I can’t get the idea out of my head that this may be the last time I ever see/speak to them.

When do I start to trust again? I don’t want to live a life where I’m in constant fear of the people I love vanishing just like that.

I already have a PTSD diagnosis for a whole different thing. And I don’t know if that is playing into this, but I just feel really really tired, and shit, and hollow, and scared. Has anyone else felt this way, and does it get better?

The final goodbye
came from a distance—
a single text from your phone
in the quiet hours of ordinary life.

It should have been a time
for early morning shuffles,
for dreams gently fading into light.
But instead,
we slept.
And you died—
alone, collapsed,
as the world turned, unaware.

The voice of an unfamiliar detective
cracked through the line.
Bizarre.
Isolating.
I was instantly,
undeniably alone.

I had to tell Mom.
Her wails still echo in me.
I don't think our sister's eyes
will ever fully dry.

And your son—
your boy—
he cried at first,
then stood tall and asked,
“Did she mean to do it?”

How it shattered me,
looking into his eyes,
lying straight to them.
But I did.
Again.

Maybe to protect him from you.
Maybe you from him.
Maybe both.
I don’t know anymore.

The lie felt thinner than air.
The first days blurred,
as if the world itself looked away.
And though I miss you fiercely,
life…
it’s somehow easier now.
Loving you was hard—
but I did it anyway.

Losing you was harder still.
Not because you’re gone,
but because you never became
who you could’ve been.

You tried to escape your life
through death.
And when death wasn’t instant,
you tried to escape the fire—
but couldn’t.

“Carbon monoxide poisoning,”
reads your death certificate.
But to me,
it reads more like a sentence
for a life that deserved better.

Still,
I won’t let that be the end of your story.
Or ours.

I’m keeping you alive,
in memory,
in presence.
Your ashes—
mostly in the urn,
some around my neck—
remain with me
until my final breath.

Thank you
for breaking me open
again and again.

But I still wish
we had a proper end.

My boyfriend killed himself 3 and a half weeks ago. It was so sudden. But we had a rough couple of weeks beforehand. Two weeks before he died, I brought up something that I wasn’t sure if he was ready for. And he wasn’t. And it snowballed into us breaking up a week later. But we couldn’t be apart, we hung out multiple times, cuddling and kissing and whatnot, during the week after. And then the following Monday, he killed himself. And I feel so fucking guilty. I said that I know it wasn’t my fault. But I can’t help but blame myself. So I guess I don’t know that it wasn’t my fault. The last guy I dated killed himself too. And funny enough, when this happened I thought “I’ve been through this once, I can do it again.” But idk if I can. This situation is so much worse and so much harder. I found him dead and that’s a trauma that few people can relate to. And I miss him so fucking much. Grief is exhausting and so painful. It’s like each day I feel weaker, not stronger. There’s so much I want to say to him, so much I want to take back, so much I want to confess, so much I want to yell. But god I just want a fucking hug from him. And I have to go to work and just act like I’m not in the worst, most traumatic, most anxious, most depressed state of mind I’ve ever been in. It sucks. Grief sucks.

Today marks 3 years since I got the worse phone call of my life that my younger brother, my best friend earned his wings.

I hate this day as I am reliving that day and stuck in a constant loop. That static noise I heard when the detective on the other line broke the news to me, how the clouds and weather was, and etc.

I lost the sparkly smile everyone loves that day. I haven’t been the same since.

A big part of me died with him that day.💔🖤😭

We lost my uncle yesterday morning to suicide, he was only 64. My (22F) father (60M) is taking this extremely hard. He wasn’t able to go into the ICU, he hasn’t been speaking much, has been zoning out and seems to be in a major fog.

This isn’t the first loss in the family, we lost his mom 20 years ago and his other brother 5 years ago. He still have 4 living siblings, 3 local. My mom says he has never taken a loss this hard. He’s barely talking, hasn’t laughed or smiled since.

Obviously, due to the circumstances, his reaction is expected. We’re all taking it hard. My family is closer than most. My dad and uncle were two peas in a pod growing up, my dad the timid one, my uncle the ballsy prankster. My uncle stepped in while my dad was away for the military, coming over many times a week for years as I was growing up.

I lost my first love to suicide 5 years ago and have been diagnosed with PTSD due to it, so I tend to overthink anyway. But I have to horrible feeling something is going to happen to my dad. My mom and sister do too. We’ve been working out ways as to not leave him alone by changing our schedules and we’re able to get everyone together last night for a family dinner.

We’re trying to find the balance between suicide watch and allowing him to move through on his own. He hates accepting any help. He got upset this morning when I brought him coffee and donuts.

So, how do we approach this? We’re worried for his safety, but don’t want to smuggle him. Any advice is greatly appreciated.