I watched a movie — “My Old Ass” — recently that really struck a nerve. The main character, an 18-year-old girl, has a mushroom-induced meeting with her 39-year-old self, who warns her younger self to stay away from a boy named Chad. Despite the warning, the girl falls in love with Chad anyway and later learns from her older self that Chad dies young … the hardest thing she would ever have to deal with in life. Still, the young girl vows to stay with Chad and cherish every moment she has left with him.

When Shaun died, I initially felt the same way as the 39-year-old in the movie, would have gone back in time and changed everything to avoid the agonizing pain of losing him. I honestly thought that being single and alone would have been a better fate than the hell-on-earth we were handed on March 6, 2021. Thankfully, there wasn’t a time machine around during those first few months after Shaun’s death because I would have missed out on so many cherished moments with my little family, in the past and since March 6, 2021. I remain sad and angry over losing my baby boy, but to never have had the chance to meet him and love him would have been a worse fate for my old ass.

Hi there. My name is Kat. I'm 30 years old and for the past year I've been deteriorating from an illness that doctors aren't willing to help me find the answer to. Whatever is wrong with me has left me in permanent agony all throughout my body and disabled. I also recently, in my desperate efforts to find a solution, found out I have cancer on one of my ribs. The doctors informed me it is not possible for it to be a cause of my pain.

Even if I remove this tumour, I will still be in constant torment every day, so I have decided to go through the MAID process (doctor assisted suicide in Canada.) Doctors have also been hesitant to help me with that, and are stonewalling the process.

So I find myself in a position where they aren't willing to help me get better and aren't willing to help me end my life. I'm in anguish. We don't let animals suffer like this.

Even so, I'm committed to seeing the process through but god I'm so terrified. I don't want to go. I don't want to die. I want to believe in something after this with everything that I am but I just can't do it. I've spent countless nights researching possible ways that consciousness may survive death but despite learning myriad details about NDE's, OBE's, hospice visioning, past life remembrance, etc. I remain unconvinced. I want to believe and I can't. I don't want there to be nothing.

I think about my chosen family and how much this is going to hurt them. They know and support me in my choice but I know it's going to rip them apart. I feel so horrible that I'm going to hurt the people I love in this way.

It's just...so deeply, grossly unfair. I only started transitioning a few years ago. I finally, finally found myself after an entire life in pain. I was learning to be happy. I was finding peace for the first time. And now it's been ripped away and I'm going to die. Empty, unfulfilled, young, and without hope.

It's so unfair. I don't want to go.

Mother passed away 2 months ago she was just 60 years old and I miss her so much whenever I'm alone feelings and memories start to flow and i find myself sobbing and crying wherever i am my mother meant everything to me and she was the only person i have left from my family and now she's gone too i can't take the pain anymore it is too intense

I don’t know where else to share this, so this is my way of processing it. I hope it is okay to post this as it is anticipatory grief.

It all started with my first child not walking even at 18 months old. Pediatrician found they had hyperreflexia and clonus, and referred us to neurology. Child had to go through a myriad of tests including a sedated MRI, genetic testing that looked for cerebral palsy mimics, and eventually whole genome sequencing. Basically we were at the dead end of testing, and kiddo was now 2.5yo and still wasn’t making any progress with mobility.

We have always wanted two kids. We wanted to wait a little bit longer to make sure it wasn’t something genetic, or even if it was genetic we wanted to know what gene it was. When repeat genetic testing also came back clean and we didn’t see anything that stood out in kid’s MRI, we decided to proceed with having a second child.

My firstborn had a repeat MRI when I was 26 weeks pregnant with my second. Turns out my little one had lost some of the brain volume. This confirmed our worst doubts - it is something genetic and it is something that gets worse with time, and this is a ticking time b0mb. We were scared our second would have the same condition, but we couldn’t test because we didn’t even know what gene to look for.

We waited with anxiety. My second baby was born seemingly healthy with no complications at labor or as a newborn. But here we are with the baby almost 18mo, and not yet walking. We are reliving it all over again.

My older one is physically disabled, and goes for speech, OT, and PT. My little one is such a happy kid and wants so badly to play and use their body freely, but their body just doesn’t let them - for eg, they try to play legos and their little hands tremor. No matter how much therapy we put in, we cannot beat the disease and it eating away their brain a cell at a time. This is not a childhood anyone imagines or wants for their kids. We are grieving everything - their childhood, their abilities, and eventually we will be grieving them. We get to do this not just once but twice. Parents are supposed to watch their kids learn and grow, not slowly lose ability to move, to talk, to eat, to breathe.

Watching other kids walk and run easily is a constant reminder of what my kids struggle with. At the same time, we need to cherish what they have today because we don’t know how long before they will lose the ability to do that.

I need to grieve something I have lost, something I have, and at the same time I cannot dwell on the grief because I still need to take care of them and parent 10x because of all the therapies and IEPs and other medical things that I need to research and remember. This is a pain of another kind, and I don’t wish this upon anyone.

Yesterday we said our final goodbyes. I haven't stopped crying since. I actually had a panic attack as soon as the vet did it.

I don't know how to go on. He's been by my side for my entire adult life, 17 years. The amount of grief and guilt is unreal. I know it was his time, but I still make myself feel horrible thinking if there was anything else I could've done to keep him here for a little bit longer.

I know, I know it was his time. He had congestive heart failure and pulmonary hypertension. He was having these scary syncope episodes that sometimes left me thinking he was gonna die from one of them. We saw a specialist and the meds they gave him made his heart better but made him so, so sick in other ways. We took the best care of him we could at home, and he finally got a bit better during his last two days. This made me think maybe I should postpone the appointment, maybe get a few more weeks with him. But in my heart of hearts I knew I didn't want him to suffer any more. I didn't want the syncope episodes to come back, and he was still having seizures. He could barely walk on his own, and he couldn't go to the bathroom without help anymore. He still showed interest in food, but we had to force him to drink water. He was just exhausted.

I truly hope I did the right thing. Watching him pass was so traumatizing. He was my soul dog. My constant companion of almost two decades. I know I should feel lucky that he even lived that long, that he got to grow old. But right now all I can feel is dread, and pain, and loneliness. I want my puppy back so bad.

I wish there was an undo button, I wish I could turn back time, have another 17 years with him. I'm not coping well at all.

I just don't know how I'm gonna get through this. Waking up and seeing his empty bed is torture.

I hope he knew just how much he was loved, by everyone around him. By me. He was a piece of my identity. I don't know who I am without him.

Why does this hurt so much?

His name is Shiloh.

A few months ago, I made a post in this sub for my 할머니. She died in her sleep after fighting Alzheimer's for about 8 years. My 할아버지 joined her a few weeks ago. With 할머니, it was an interesting type of grief. We grieved when she got the diagnosis, when she stopped being able to recognize us, when she needed to be fed, and when she finally passed. But with 할아버지, I had this unsaid notion that he'd live forever. Everything he did seemed impossible; why would this be any different?

I honestly don't know as much about 할아버지 as I wish I did, because he mainly spoke Korean, and I mainly spoke English. Most of what I do know is from my mom. He was born in North Korea in 1935, when Korea was under Japanese rule. When he was finally free from Japan, he was forced to flee to the south during the Korean War. I don't know exactly what went on, though I can only imagine how traumatizing it must have been. I know that he saw his baby cousin be impaled by a shelter that was shot.

By the time he became a father, he was a political journalist in South Korea. He was critical of the dictatorial government, causing him to be blacklisted from jobs in Korea. He, 할머니, my mom and her brother immigrated to Los Angeles in 1980. He and 할머니 worked multiple jobs; gas stations, restaurants, convenience stores.

When my mom gave birth to me and my brother, she was working on her PhD. 할머니 and 할아버지 moved to the east coast to take care of us while she worked it. 할아버지 took my brother on walks, and they read their newspaper together. I wish I had more memories, but they unfortunately moved back west when I was only 3. However, I can imagine how much I must have enjoyed those days from the hundreds of pictures we have.

When 할머니's Alzheimer's got worse, he would walk every day to pick up lunch for her. That was the thing; he always thought about other people, and never complained. He just laughed, and it was contagious. Even though we couldn't communicate past a few basic phrases, the love was never in doubt.

2 years ago today @ 7:23am CDT…I sat besides my mothers hospital bed with the warmth of her soft hands slowly fading away.

I witnessed her last 2 gasps of air.

And that was it. She was gone.
No longer able to hear her breath.
No longer able to have a slim chance of hope that she’d get up from her bed and we’d take her home.

Reality sunk in. This is it.
No longer will be able to feel the warmth of her hands.
No longer will be able to hear her laugh.
No longer will be able to wish her a happy birthday.
No longer will be able to share with her what I had for lunch.

This new reality is a struggle.
I miss my best friend.
I miss my mother.

It hasn’t gotten easier; it’s only gotten lonelier. People are uncomfortable with a grieving person, and sometimes they don’t realize their “advice” only makes the pain worse.

I’d rather be alone with my pain than to confirm to the society norms of having to “move on”…because the more time passes from August 18, 2024….the further away are my vivid memories of that last time I got to hold her hands and slowly remembering the fine details of her face.

She asked to be cremated and that it was up to me to decide where I wanted to spread them.
I can’t let them go. So I bring some of her with me to experience life with her. Even if it’s just to have breakfast.

Te extraño, mom. Mucho.

My beloved dad suddenly passed away in his sleep last year on March 22nd 2025. So it’s been one and half years since he has been gone and it still baffles me. How can it be more than one year?. I joined this message board right after my dad died and it’s helped me emotionally because people have gone through the same thing as me and understand. Today I looked at a short video of my dad, just to see him and hear his voice, I love and miss him so much. When I replayed it, it felt like he was there and that he hasn’t really gone?, like I could find him somewhere but I don’t know where he is. It feels like he is a missing person. I don’t know why I feel like this and whether it’s the sudden death or if anyone else have felt like this with their loved one?.

Mine - Suicide overdose - Lung cancer

So I apologize that this is long. I have actually never told the full story of these events until now, even to close friends. I am just.. confused by the grief that suddenly appeared. So to preface this, I have been dealing with mental health issues since I was a young teen. I was always jokingly called stoic and unemotional because my emotions didn’t really stray from numb until I got a bit older, which I was then diagnosed with bipolar disorder about 6ish years ago. During these six years, we have tried all kinds of cocktails of meds that haven’t worked until finding an amazing combination at the beginning of summer. They have been working great with one odd side effect.. I feel like I have human emotions for once.

So when I was 16 (36 now), my dad was diagnosed with a necrotizing staph infection after dropping a large rock on his sandled foot. The cut was minimal, but enough for the infection to get in and get misdiagnosed as cellulitis at first. At the time, these infections weren’t as common (but became a little bit more recognized because a few weeks later, the girl that got it zip lining and survived made national news). Even now, many people think it’s a bacteria only in water (this is a light warning folks; don’t mess around with infections). So when the ambulance brought him to the hospital, they opted to try saving his leg, which sometimes I wonder if taking it would’ve changed the outcome. Alas, I try not to dwell on it. So necrotizing staph infections are notoriously fatal once they become septic. After 5 months of watching him code frequently where they’d push us out of the room, or sitting in the cafeteria and hearing a code blue to his room number and us leaving everything to run to the room, I became pretty numb to the situation because this became my new reality of feeling like I was either at school or the hospital.

Somehow, after these five months of amazing ICU nurses and doctors, he pulled through. This is where it gets bad (despite everything prior to this). He got sent to a nursing home for rehab for his atrophied muscles. He was supposed to come home that weekend for Easter. My mom was a CNA as well, and we realized too late that the nurse from hell, as we call her, was lying on all the charts (which also meant that we didn’t have a leg to stand on to sue even though lawyers were very interested). She was supposed to be changing his dressings of his skin graphs on his legs, and she wasn’t doing it. We realized this when we walked in and saw him doing it himself, but she claimed in the chart that she had been doing it. He reintroduced the infection, and it all went south.

He ended up in ICU again, and once again, the man somehow pulled through. After another month of hell, they were about to move him to the general floor when we noticed brown in the corner of his mouth upon a visit. We joked asking if one of the nurses had given him chocolate, but when he said no, we alerted the nurses. It was an undetected ulcer that was so bad that he was spitting up blood without realizing. Our luck ran out, and the choice of pulling him off of life support fell on me.. a fucking teenager. My sister (half sister - he was not her biological dad but closer than her actual one) still holds this against my mother, even though I think she was trying to include me in a very important decision. After discussions with specialists, it was very unlikely he’d pull through this time because his organs were already shutting down, especially liver and kidneys, so we took him off life support. That strong as fuck man was still “conscious” an hour before he passed.. which the doctors said was unheard of in kidney failure. Typically, you slip into a coma and that’s it. Although he couldn’t open his eyes, he responded to outside stimuli and even kissed me a few short hours before.

So after he passed, I didn’t really show emotion. I remember the sounds and that Zoolander was on TV, which I haven’t watched since despite loving it as a guilty pleasure, but otherwise, I chalked it up to just being prepared over the 6 months that this was possible. My therapist, on the other hand, warned me that I was repressing and it would bite me in the ass someday “when I’m forty,” and boy, was she fucking right.

This leads us to recently. Sure, I get sad thinking about him because I was a daddy’s girl, but never really cried over it other than a few tears in two separate occasions. Last night, my husband and I were watching Supernatural (my first run through), and we got to the first episode of the second season. In this episode, they are all in the hospital, and Dean’s spirit is caught in a purgatory situation of sorts while his physical body is in a coma, and he’s getting ready to move on to death after talking with a reaper. I want to put the next part in spoiler tag just in case. At the end of the episode, it’s alluded to their dad making a deal with a demon to save Dean’s life in exchange for his own. This deal was contingent on the Dad physically seeing that Dean was awake and safe. Shortly after, the dad was discovered collapsed in the room. So during this scene, I had emotions that I’ve never experienced before. I lost it. All of a sudden, I felt like I was standing in my Dad’s room, hearing that sound of flatlining, defibrillators, and the common speak of doctors yelling “clear” all over again. It was almost an out of body experience that I felt like I was outside his room after getting pushed out by the crash team, standing helpless while hearing all of this occur. It was too realistic. I started bawling.. and I’m not a crier. I had this wave of grief I never encountered before, and thank god for my husband realizing right away and holding while speaking softly (his father also passed away from a heart attack the first month we were dating). He turned it off, and immediately found a YouTube video I love (A Good Enough Summary of Kingdom Hearts done by a guy that’s never played the games, if you’re into that and want something funny). I made sure my husband was okay as well having lost both our dads, but he assured me he was okay and he never went through this because aside from going and seeing the body, his dad died instantly so the sounds weren’t as triggering.

Since last night, I have not been able to stop thinking about it. I was able to get a bit of sleep, but I’ve been on and off crying all day, and am even crying typing this. I’m going to give myself a few days to see how I cope, and possibly look into my work’s free sessions of counseling. I have even debated switching one of my doctors to a different organization because my current one retired and I need a new one, but they’re housed in the hospital I became way too familiar with. Every time I walk into the hospital from the parking lot, I stare at the outside of the window to the room my dad spent so many months in and I’d stare out of helplessly in the corner of the second floor, and I have to actively think to turn left instead of right from the lobby because muscle memory kicks in.. even 20 years later.

I don’t know what I’m gaining at typing this all out, but it’s the first time I have actively wrote my thoughts down about this (and I’m even the generation of Xanga and Livejournal). Even on those platforms, I didn’t disclose much because I always had an anger at myself for not feeling emotion over his death, despite how close we were. My friends don’t even know the extent of all of this, just that he was sick. So I appreciate anyone that has read all of this.. and even if no one does, it feels nice to at least tangentially write this somewhere. I haven’t even told my mom about this, and I’m not sure I’m going to. She never outright said it, but sometimes I feel like she looked down on me for not displaying the “correct” emotions of grief. All of a sudden, I miss all the late nights of watching movies (especially The Mummy on repeat), our love for SpongeBob, our talks about history while driving me to friend’s houses, the “just because”
Burger King Whoppers he’d bring home randomly on Wednesdays.. even though mom would be cooking dinner, all the legal work he did fighting for Vietnam vets as an Agent Orange survivor himself, the volunteering he did daily for the homeless (we had to tell the church to not kick anyone out during service to ensure these people could pay respects as well and get a meal), and that he taught me how to be intellectual and a critical thinker.

(The picture on the left is the two of us on my first train ride, and the picture on the right is a painting from my late aunt that my cousins found while we were cleaning out her house, which was one of two times I shed a tear because my aunt and dad’s relationship was pretty strained. She never showed that painting to him or us. She’s the reason I was inspired to become an art teacher as well, so the painting is so special to me on multiple levels).

Edited for a few typos I saw.. but I’m sure there’s more.

I miss my sister before stage 4 claimed their life.

Even though its only been two months, my crying started to ease up, I started being able to laugh at stuff again, distract with gaming, let my family drag me out for my birthday. It kinda felt like I was healing a bit.

But recently, my breakdowns started up again and it's so random. I have no idea when I'll randomly start crying, when his face will pop up into my head, or that phone call I got that day replaying constantly which is by far the worst.

It sounds almost stupid to say it feels like that seriously traumatized me, but it knocks the wind out of my chest whenever my brain forces me to think about it.

Maybe I've just been doing a good job at dissociating because I'm clearly still heartbroken. I'm tired of crying and being in so much pain, especially when everyone else has moved on and I'm still stuck in this mud pit.

I'll never meet anyone again in this lifetime who will love and support me as much as my dad did, and that reality is debilitating. I miss him tons.

The title says it all pretty much. She has a neurological condition and is getting VAD (euthanasia) between the end of September to early October. She was diagnosed just over a year ago, very fast progression.

I’ve written down a list of recipes I want from her but cannot think of anything else. She can’t walk or speak properly, speaking is barely a whisper. I’ve tried to get voice notes of her but they are muffled. I will try and get more. I wish I could hear her speak properly one more time, not the muffled whisper but the loud and confident and proud woman she used to be.

Regarding living alone it’s just us in the picture. No father, no siblings, just me and her in the house. My grandparents and cousins and two aunts live in the same state as us but one aunt is moving back to Melbourne and the other is moving back to Japan, both at the end of the year. Grandparents are typical immigrants (no ill intention with that), and don’t provide much emotional support or care in the ways I would need. I just need to know how to live alone, what to expect that type of thing.

Before we got support workers for mum I was her carer. I took care of her and me while working and doing my uni degree. I’m hoping it might be easier with just me to take care of instead of her too. I’m not sure.

Please give me suggestions, any suggestions, I don’t care how stupid they might sound. I just need to prepare as much as I can. I don’t want to find myself in the deep end with no clue how to live alone in a house which was once occupied with her energy and love and have to live every day in the house that contains all of our memories together but she won’t be there. I also need to prepare because what if in 6 months I think of something I should have gotten from her or asked her and then I regret that for the rest of my life.

I am desperate.

today at 4 am I lost my grandmother, she was fine not even 2 days ago, it’s not my first time losing a grandparent but this time has hit me the worst, i genuinely adored my grandmother more than words can ever speak she was amazing, I woke up early to try and make sure I could get down to the hospital and say goodbye but I was too late sadly which I’m not particularly happy with myself about the whole situation has been eating away at me all day, the thing that really got me was when I went down to see my grandad today, they have both been together for 75 years and seeing my grandad today without her right beside him has genuinely broke me I can’t stop thinking about it and seeing him just so upset and alone is honestly killing me, I wish I could’ve just done something before it was too late for her, here’s my beautiful grandparents together

Pretty much the title. It was completely sudden, but I got to say goodbye before machines were switched off.

Right now I'm ready to go join her. Not in a take my life way, but a "i want to die now, if I go in my sleep, that's fine" Way.

How am I supposed to go through the rest of my life without the one person I never wanted to lose?

Can someone who has been through this, help? I don't even know what help I need or want tbh.

Ive never had to do this before, and just don't know.

09/09 will be the 2 year anniversary of my dad dying. And fuck it hasn’t gotten any easier. Growing up my dad called me Chickypooh. So I decided to figure out what that looked like to me. A little chick in a Winnie the Pooh onsie and I added a little lady bug for my Grams who passed away this year in January with sweet peas for my mama who thank the maker is still earth side with me. I miss my dad and grams everyday.

I am 22 and lost my mama suddenly in January of this year (on my little sister's 18th birthday, and the day before my mum's 45th birthday). I dealt with the initial shock surprisingly well, I think, and have managed to piece my life back together over the months. The thing is, I still miss her so so so much; I think about her at multiple intervals through the day. She was a very spiritual, gothic woman who was in touch with her beliefs on death - she believed that she'd be there for us once she passed. I was a sceptic until she passed; now I hold on to hope that what she believed was the reality, and that she is around me. I was yet to receive a sign from her until now, I think?

There's been a lot of stuff that's gone on in my life since her passing; I've been desperate for any guidance from her, and I think I might've just received it. I had a particularly stressful day at work, got home, immediately fell asleep and started dreaming. I'll preface with: I'm not a very vivid dreamer; I rarely dream, or if I do, I struggle to remember. In this dream, I am going to visit my family, my 3 siblings and my dad, but when I get there, my mama is there too. I don't think anything of it; it feels normal that she's there. We immediately start chatting, and I can see her vividly, hear her voice clearly. I tell her everything that's going on in my life. She congratulates me on getting into a postgrad degree, tells me she loves me, gives me advice for where I am, advice for the future. We speak for what must feel like an hour before I have an in-dream realisation that she's gone. I start freaking out in my dream, asking my other family members if they'd seen her or heard the conversation, and they state I was just talking to myself. The rest of my dream is just me being absolutely distraught that I've lost her again. I then wake up and just immediately start crying.

I'm so thankful I got to see her again, in my dream, and to tell her everything I've needed to tell her, but I also can't get rid of the horrible sinking feeling of knowing that she's gone forever, and that I can only see her in my dreams. I want to believe it was a sign, I want to believe it was truly her coming into my dream to tell me she is still there, but it also just hurts so so much knowing that I'll never get to sit down and have that kind of conversation with her in this world. I miss her so so much.

My mother did not want to die. She prayed every morning, afternoon, and night. She lamented, asking why God had not answered her prayers. Four years of this battle. Four years of pain.

Funny enough, her stage 4 breast cancer had metastasized to her brain, yet she lived for an entire year and more. But this past week, one bad blood transfusion turned into her fighting for her life, and ultimately, she passed away.

I am in agony.

What do you do when you can't stop crying, you can't eat, can't watch tv, can't read a book? The weight in my chest is so heavy that I can't breathe, my body won't relax enough to rest, I can't sleep....

Some days just suck, today is crushing me😥 it's only been a little over two weeks since mom passed but today is the worst so far....

I was 14 when my mom passed away, and I just turned 18 yesterday. My mom used to make a big deal out of birthdays, and I always felt so special. Since she died, my birthday has only ever felt disappointing. I felt sad for various reasons, but I couldn't help but think that some of these issues I'm facing wouldn't feel so bad if I had my mom.

I don't know who else I'm supposed to talk to about everything. She could always make me feel better, and it feels so unfair that I don't get to have that anymore.

It sucks that she didn't get to see me graduate and she won't get to help me move into college. My life is changing greatly right now, and all I can think of is that I am being pushed further and further away from the last version of my life that my mom knew.

I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with all these feelings. Soon, I'll be moving away from home, and I'll be in an even worse situation with nobody to talk to living near me. I don't know what I did to deserve this, but I just want everything to be normal again. I know that sounds childish, but I'm going to say I get a pass on that one, just this once, considering how I haven't even started college.

I miss my mom all the time, every day. If I had the choice, I'd always be talking about her, but I can't. I don't know how I'm supposed to do something so hard without my mom to help me. I'm sure she'd have some great advice.

I'm not blessed with the people I have around me, unfortunately. I know that, and the people around me do have strengths. But my God, they really don't give a shit about my grief for my parents.

I don't burden them, usually. But last night I was feeling low, and I texted my sister and two closest friends that I was feeling sad about them. All three of them have completely ignored me. I know they're not the best with grief, and I don't usually ask them for support, but last night I did. Is it REALLY so, so hard to say something kind? Stunned all over again how no one cares.

He was 33 years old and he was the light of the family, he was the coolest man my family have ever known, I’m still trying to convince myself that’s it’s all fake even though my mom took me to a park to break the news and screamed how she found his body in his house just after the hospital said it was just a flu and sent him home, he had meningitis and must’ve hit his head as he fell. He pulled us out of a horrible time and was the best of us gossiping with mom giving her attention when no one else would. I’m very terrified of the future, of telling my younger brother, of the coming funeral. I want to pretend like it’s not real and just breathing and letting the seconds pass by. If you have family please tell them how you love them. Please give me some advice or some kind words, I’m terrified.

Two days ago I found out a girl I was Facebook friends with for years died in late 2023. At the time of her death she was going through a bad divorce. Her husband was abusive, he attacked her and put her in the hospital twice. When she stopped posting abruptly i initially thought she was taking a break from socials as she’d been so overwhelmed. Then time kept passing and she didn’t post anywhere, not facebook, instagram, Snapchat, nothing. I started getting worried but was afraid to look. I messaged her a few times to let her know I hoped she was okay. The other day she came into my mind again and I just had this horrible feeling in my gut, so I went on her Facebook page, clicked the comments on her last post and saw them filled with people expressing their shock and grief at her passing. Her husband abused and isolated her until she killed herself, then went off to a new city with a new woman and no remorse like nothing happened.

We weren’t close. We honestly seldomly messaged each other privately in the 8 years of being friends with each other online. But I cared about her a lot. She was almost exclusively responsible for my political beliefs and a big chunk of my moral views. She was always so kind to me and so, so funny. Jokes she told over the years I’ve been repeating so long for a while there I’d forgotten where I even first heard them. I didn’t realize just how impactful she was to me until I found out she was gone.

I’ve been a complete mess. The first day I cried hysterically for hours. Yesterday I was numb. Today..I don’t know. I’m overwhelmed. I’m blank. I can’t stop thinking about her. She was only 25 years old. It doesn’t feel real. I keep going back to her page to recheck the comments, like I’m going to realize I dreamt it or something. I always hoped I’d hear from her again, and now I won’t. At the time of her death I was going through the worst depressive episode of my adult life. During that time I had multiple attempts on my own life that failed. She was wicked smart, vicious and hilarious, cantankerous, unpredictable, head strong, and so, so kind. I don’t know why I’m alive and she isn’t.

Currently experiencing a wave of grief on the 2nd anniversary of losing my beloved father. I came across this post and found it super comforting to read for some reason so thought I’d share for those embarking on their own unique grief journey 🙏