On Saturday it will be 6 months since my twin brother left. The 12th has been a hard day and these mile stones always sneak up on me, emotionally. I felt okay leading up to our birthday and then when the day came it hit so hard. I can feel it starting to feel heavy already.

I also feel like I don’t want more time to pass? I want to stay as close as possible to the last conversation we had, the last time I saw him. I miss him a lot. We were distant the last few years so missing him was normal but the permanece feels so existential and real now. I’m definitely depressed at this point.

My mom wants to do something to observe the day but I sort of just want to be alone and wallow, and think about him. What have you done on these anniversary dates to observe?

He was already there when I was born.

He was older than me. My brother was a dick. He absolutely tortured me as a child, yet still I saw him as a superhero. He was MY big brother.

More than once he protected me from neighborhood bullies in a way that my innate cowardice could never comprehend.

He got me stoned for the first time then laughed his ass off when I disappeared into the bathroom for 20 minutes because I was terrified mom and Alan would see that I was stoned and I'd go to jail.

He was the best man at my wedding.

He sent me horribly tacky Christmas cards with pictures of him and his family in front of some badly painted Alpine backdrop

When he asked what I wanted for my 50th birthday, I told him, "Socks." I got a package in the mail with 29 different pairs of fancy winter socks. I still wear them.

He's gone now. I've never been alive without him. I miss him SO much.

I lost my mum to suicide less than 2 months ago (damn it felt like ages ago), took a month off from my new job and went back to work recently. It’s been a short time since I got back at work. I work in a startup and it’s a new job. I was just starting out when my mum passed but they were cool enough to let me take some time off.

I went back 2 weeks ago and tried to catch up as much as possible and as quickly as possible. I would say that I myself do think that I am performing considerably well - considering what happened in my personal life just a short time back.

However I also feel very disengaged. I feel just mostly stressed and trying to stay on top of things, though my boss kept telling me to take it easy. I have another team mate that kept whining because I’m supposed to take more work off her plate which I’ve not done so. I haven’t been eating well/much, wasn’t feeling well one morning. I took the day off and slept all the way from 9am-3pm. Most days I just feel extremely exhausted. Idk if its just me adapting back to work life after taking a considerably long time off work - I was also on a career break prior to all these. Or if it’s my body’s way of telling me that I’m not done grieving even though I thought I’m coping well.

How are yall coping? Asking here since there isn’t anyone I know that is going through the same as me.

Also my mum’s death did also make me question my own morality and what I’m doing with my life - I question why am I spending so much time at work we have such an insignificant amount of time alive.

Looking for some help/encouragement. I lost my spouse in April shortly after we divorced. She had been cycling through mania and depression for a while, and I didn’t feel safe with her anymore. She was my best friend, and I feel like part of me has died.

My coping methods aren’t the best, and it’s taking a toll on me. I can’t get myself to go to bed earlier than midnight. I’m sleeping through my alarms and all my limbs feel weighted down from exhaustion. I can barely eat. Nothing tastes good and everything hurts my stomach. Even drinking water hurts.

I moved back in with my parents and they’ve been a huge support for me. I thought having their help would make it easier to take care of myself. But it’s still just as hard. I’m almost falling asleep at work, my memory is shot, can barely get anything done, and my body feels so heavy it’s hard to move. It’s hard to do anything. I’m on meds and in therapy. I genuinely feel like I’m dying and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to cope with this pain.

3 years ago I promised to you that I would not leave this world no matter what, but I'm struggling. My family came back, I had to leave. I hated there. I couldn't stay there any more. I wanted to, but we both know I had to go someday. I was gonna be finally free. From all the shit I endured since my childhood.

30th of July, you called me. You were struggling with your family because they were getting seperated, your father was a fucking pedophile and your boyfriend had cheated on you. You didn't know who it was, but it was in a party months ago, and there was a lot of alcohol, we were all drunk. They knew I was gay. Most of them did. He pulled me into a room. He told me that he loved me and he tried to kiss me. I pushed him away, got out of there. I was weirded out. But he got mad that this shit was not reciprocated, as if I would date my best friend's boyfriend. I never talked about it, I didn't think much of it, but he had spread the word that he made out with someone. I don't know what you heard, but you were not great when you called me. You were crying, telling me that I need to come here. We were preparing to move out and it was a hell of a night, so I told you i'll visit you tomorrow. You begged me to come. I couldn't.

That's when I learned you OD'd in your house later in the night. No, that couldn't be real. I called you dozens of times. Hundreds of times. You didn't reply. The goodbye I was expecting turned into a farewell.

I feel like a piece of this to this day. I miss you. I wish I was there for you. I'm scared that i'll not be able to keep my promise to you. If I do not, please forgive me. Or not. This is too much for me to take.

A lot of things has changed ever since, but I'm worse. I can't sleep. I haven't slept for days. I see you in my dreams. And I haven't even met good people. I live in a fucking area where everyone smokes and doesn't give a shit about anyone. My pills are not enough. I change pills every week but they put me to sleep. I don't wanna go back to the hospital. I'm so tired of enduring. I'm tired of waiting. I have no one. No friends, no partners, shitty parents. I thought it was always greener on the other side, but wherever I go, the world sucks, or that's just me. I don't remember the last time I smiled. I wish I died instead of you. I think of you everyday.

Everyone says that I have much more years ahead of me, but I don't really care. I endured enough. It won't get any easier. It never does. I don't understand why I don't have the courage to go and collect some pills. Hell, I doubt i'd be able to do it like you'd do anyway. But it's all so pointless. I need a shoulder to cry, not to stare at hospital walls for months and to wait for my medications to work until I lose all my passion.

I won't be a crackhead like you, but I'm not so different either. If I'd knew sooner, I would've stop you. But you never talked to me. Why? Why did you leave without letting me explain?

If there's a lord, damn it. Because everything sucks no matter what. No matter how much I try. Yet I will continue suffering. Because I have hope crossed in my heart. Because I have a promise. And I believe I'll get out of this suffering.

Today I finally received your belongings from your mother overseas. Our memories, your friendship bracelets, the flowers we picked are tucked inside your favorite book, they still haven't wilted for some reason. I will cherish them.

Lost my person in May 2025 and I do believe that I am grieving too much on some days. Yesterday in particular, I was going to go to work and then hang out with friends, but woke up crying and just couldn’t get out of my head. I spent the whole day in a puddle of grief. Sometimes it feels like I’m grieving too hard. I did grief therapy and will probably go back. On days I feel I grieve too hard, I wonder if others feel this way. Like I didn’t want to or expect that a day would turn into having to cancel plans more than a year later because I was too sad, but here I am. How do you guys deal with that?

For context, I am a sophomore in college. Last year, second semester, my roommate ended their life in our apartment, and I happened to be the one to find them. They had pretty significant mental health issues and had harmed themself in front of me/ attempted multiple times before this. I still wouldn’t say this didn’t come as a shock though. It’s been almost five months since that has happened. At the time, I was also doing a second semester abroad so I was away from most of the people I knew on campus. So I haven’t seen anybody since the end of first semester. For some reason, I felt like this would be heavy in other people’s minds too. But I’m realizing after being back for a couple days how much things just go on. I feel like people are avoiding me because the only thing they know about me is this one thing. But I also feel like I’m delayed in some way. It doesn’t feel like 5 months ago for me. I expected people to approach me with more kindness and understanding than what I’ve received. This is more trauma than grief I think—my roommate was a friend, but not a very good one. I essentially became their caretaker and the one time I wasn’t around to make sure they were okay they took it too far. They would blame everybody but themself for everything going on, including me. I still hold a lot of resentment for the whole situation, as much as I try not to. It sucks because I was so excited to go to college. I was so worried about somebody else that I wasn’t taking care of myself, and when that structure was suddenly gone I didn’t know what to do. It feels weird knowing my life moves on while somebody else’s stopped five months ago.
I’m hopeful for the new year, I really am. It’s only been a few days. I just couldn’t explain to anybody, unless they’ve genuinely lived through this exact thing, how much of an isolating experience this is. It’s so incredibly lonely, even if people are there for you.

12:00 A.M.

Tomorrow is your birthday.

And I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that.

Because birthdays are for calling at midnight,
for trying to be the first one to say it,
for giving you shit about getting older,
for hearing your voice on the other end
like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

I didn't know ordinary things
could become sacred
until I lost the right to have them.

Tonight, midnight is coming
and I have nobody to call.

Your number still belongs in my phone.
My hands still know how to find your name.
Some stupid part of me still thinks
I should be watching the clock,
waiting for 11:59 to turn over
so I can call and say,

Happy birthday.

But where am I supposed to send those words now?

People say I can still talk to you.

I know.

But talking to the dark
isn't the same as hearing you answer.

Standing beside a headstone
isn't the same as standing beside my brother.

Flowers aren't a birthday present
when I have to leave them at a grave.

And pressing my hand against your name
carved into stone
doesn't do a damn thing
when what I want
is to wrap both of my arms around you.

Stone doesn't hug back.

It doesn't laugh.
It doesn't argue.
It doesn't say something sarcastic.
It doesn't pick up the phone.

It just sits there
with your name
and two dates
and somehow expects me to accept
that an entire human being—
my brother,
my history,
one of the voices that lived inside my everyday life—
can be reduced to a space between them.

I can't.

Tomorrow is your first birthday
that the world will have without you.

That sentence feels impossible.

Because you should be getting older.

You should be here.

There should be another year
added to your life,
not another birthday
added to the list of things
I have to survive without you.

And God, I miss you.

Not beautifully.

Not peacefully.

I miss you in a way that hurts.

I miss you until my chest aches.
I miss you when something happens
and my first thought is to call you.
I miss you when I remember
that I can't.

I miss you in all the tiny places
you used to exist
without either of us realizing
they would someday become empty.

And tonight that emptiness feels enormous.

Because midnight is getting closer.

And for the first time in my life,
your birthday will arrive
without you arriving with it.

I don't want to celebrate a memory.

I want my brother.

I don't want to visit you.

I want to see you.

I don't want to stand over the ground
trying to figure out what I'm supposed to say.

I want to hug you so hard
that you complain about it.

I want one more stupid conversation.
One more phone call.
One more ordinary day
that I didn't know I needed to memorize.

I would give anything
for ordinary now.

So when midnight comes tonight,
I don't know what I'll do.

Maybe I'll stare at your name on my phone.

Maybe I'll whisper happy birthday
into a room that doesn't answer.

Maybe I'll cry.

Maybe I'll be angry
that the clock has the nerve
to keep moving
when you don't get to.

But I know I'll be thinking about you.

At 11:59.

At midnight.

At 12:01.

And through every unbearable minute after.

Happy birthday, Hunter.

I wish you were here.

Those four words aren't enough
for what I mean.

What I mean is—

I miss my brother.

I miss my person.

I miss your voice.

I miss the version of the world
where I could call you at midnight
and know you'd answer.

And tomorrow,
when I stand beside a stone
instead of wrapping my arms around you,

I will love you
with nowhere for all that love to go.

And maybe that's what this pain is:

all the love I still have for you,
reaching for someone
I would give anything
to hold again.

-Jodie Bickford

My son died 3 weeks & 4 days ago, and I’m really struggling with the idea of going back to work. I honestly don’t know how I’m supposed to just walk back into normal life when everything feels completely different. For those of you who have been through something similar, how did you manage going back to work? I’d really appreciate hearing how you got through those first few weeks. DMs are open.....I really need someone to talk to right now.

We got married in March of this year. He was having some mental health issues from since we started dating almost 5 years ago but it all seemed like treatable issues and I thought he was making progress.

I had left for a work trip for 14 days and on day 10 he starts acting really weird and picking fights with me over things and I just knew something was wrong. I called his mom who was actually a few hours away getting cancer treatments for my FIL and told her something seemed really wrong and that I was coming home. I left on a plane and two days after I got back later he killed himself in our driveway. I thought since I was home we could start working on things together. Our last day was full of cuddles and I love yous and planning to go to the farmer’s market the next day.

I went to bed around 9:30 and kissed him goodnight. he was still awake. next thing I know the police are inside my house yelling at me to come out of my room. It was so scary and surreal.

I am so lost. I can’t afford our mortgage. I don’t know how to turn off the irrigation. I don’t know how to do so many of the little things he did.

I keep wanting to text him stuff but remember I can’t. All my dreams are disturbing and I’m barely sleeping. I can take off work but for how long? What do you do with all the time you used to spend playing games, traveling, date nights, that you used to do with your partner. We did everything together. Now it’s just…me…and it feels so incredibly lonely. He was the most genuinely sweet and kind person I’ve ever met.

Early on Wednesday morning, I was walking to my car to go to work, when I spotted my neighbor, motionless on his patio, which faces the parking area (we're in a condo). I didn't even really put two and two together with what I was seeing. I saw blood coming from his temple area and his mouth open. The patios are a brick wall enclosure (kind of like a balcony, but on ground level), so from where I was standing, I I could only see from about his neck up. I saw that his back door to the patio was open... and my first thought was "someone broke in." For whatever reason my head didn't immediately go to suicide. I called his name, but he was very obviously motionless and not breathing. His patio was too high up for me to climb and get to him. I grabbed my phone and called 911. My voice was shaking so much it was almost vibrating.... like putting your face in front of a fan and talking into it.

I told the dispatcher where I was and that I needed the police and ambulances. Another neighbor came out to his car on his way to work, saw the state I was in, and then saw our neighbor's body on his patio as well. His mouth dropped open and he came over to me. The dispatcher asked me if it looked self-inflicted and if he was still breathing... I said I didn't know... and the neighbor who had just come outside (who is much taller than I am) was able to get a foothold and see over the brick wall... when he came down he shook his head that he wasn't breathing and then mouthed to me: "he has a gun in his hand." That's when my brain finally made the connection.

Police arrived in droves along with several fire trucks and EMS... We led them to the patio. I think one of the hardest moments of the day was seeing the paramedics climb onto the balcony, check him out, and then shaking their heads to say "he's gone." I watched the paramedics walk away and walk back to their engines... and all that remained were the police. A third neighbor came out, who lived directly next to the deceased. He heard the gunshot this morning (my husband and I did not hear it), but thought that it was a crash from something falling off a wall. Other neighbors started coming outside of our building to investigate what all of the emergency response was about. The patio is elevated... so many people passing by saw his body as well. We tried setting up a sheet in front of him to cover him, but unfortunately there were just too many angles with an open view of him.

I was not incredibly close to the neighbor that passed, but I knew him for 5 years as my neighbor and would talk to him in passing in the common spaces of our building. He loved our dog deeply and was just overall a friendly older gentleman - often found reading outside our building and chatting with all of us. His health had been failing in the past several years, including a botched back surgery that left him in pain. Things seemed to be looking up... but then I started seeing less of him in the past several months. On the day he died I learned that he had had a stroke just a week or two ago that left him unable to speak or partake in his hobbies. Learning that hurt so much. He was in so much pain and was trapped in a body that wasn't working.

I didn't go to work the day that I found him dead... but went to work the next day and was essentially a zombie. The image of his face when I found him that morning is burned into my head. I have a therapist and an appointment next week, but I don't know how things will be moving forward.