Well.

The anniversary of the day approaches. 

The day my life changed forever.

The day my children lost their dad, who tucked them in that night and made them homemade pizza for dinner.

I remember, in those horrible days and weeks after October 11, 2019, that I prayed for the one-year mark to hurry up and pass. I wanted the intense emotional and the literal physical pain to fade and I knew that time was my only medicine. 

Time is palliative care but still, it takes the edge off. I’m happy to report that most of the physical manifestations of my grief are gone. For weeks, I had a racing heart, skin on fire, insomnia, nausea. I actually thought at times that I was dying. In fact, I raced myself to the ER one day, convinced that I was having a heart attack. Thankfully, I was not. Thank you to my friends who continue to remind me not to chew my cheeks or clench my jaw. I still do those things unconsciously all day long.

Over the past year, I have studied GRIEF. I have read so many books. 60? Almost all self-help. (Coping mechanism number 1 for insomnia.) I am and always have been the eternal student. I realize now what I took for granted. I realize one really does not know GRIEF until you are in the front row of the funeral. It is the spotlight that you never wanted. But most of us will be, in time. Every time I hear, “I can’t imagine!” I think, oh but you will. None of us gets to live without loss. One definitely does not get to love without grief. 

My current intent in this letter is to reflect, share a bit of my journey, and to thank all of you. I have come so far and the thought of doing it alone… well, it would have been just impossible. 

Bless. 

You. 

Someone said to me today, “You have such amazing friends.” I have heard that countless times in the last year. I always respond, yes, I am so blessed. My tribe is so strong, so big, so loving, so supportive. I am SO very grateful. I know I will never repay the loving gestures and support I have received in this lifetime. THIS! 

To every one of you who sent a text, a meal, flowers, cards, stories, money, blankets, books, cookies, a song that inspired me (Beautiful Anyway- Judah and The Lion) … thank you.  You raked my yard, took my cars for new batteries and emissions testing, you remodeled my house, filled my house with delicious soups, that wonderful saag, or an amazing vegetarian lasagna which convinced me to eat a meal for the first time in a week…thank you. You bought new rugs, sheets, blankets, shoveled my walk, packed up all Wade’s stuff,  did my hair for the funeral, sold bikes for me, took the dogs to the brewery, brought me lavender on Mother’s Day, brought me jewelry (at 5:30 am!) on my wedding anniversary, acknowledged that Father’s Day was hard, listened to me cry, encouraged me to laugh, made my mail box pretty each month, took Josh to ride therapy horses, dragged me on bike rides, went for a walk with me, snuck in extra stickers for my bikes, played Go Fish with my boys and took me out to eat nachos (my ultimate comfort food). You fixed the truck camper, sent me beautiful prayers or words of hope, made me killer margaritas, held a ceremony for Zak’s 13th birthday, put me in touch with other suicide survivors, brought me healing crystals, called me every day to check in, brought presents for my boys and sent me self-help books. You helped me change a bike tire, planned the most amazing birthday parties for my boys, helped me figure out how fix my stove, hung my punching bag (another coper), hid pictures celebrating our friendship in my drawers for me to discover randomly, taught me to use a weed whacker, drove Zak to or from mountain bike practice, redecorated my desk at work and took all my work shifts (for so long- my Mesa family is just incredible).  You drove my children around, you texted me every day from Josh’s school and brought him to my car after the bell, PRAYED for me (so many prayer warriors, amazing). You organized all my bills and finances, wrote legal letters, watched over me as amazing neighbors do for each other, you spoke to teachers for me, held my hand in the worst moments (sometimes while sleeping in my bed with me), installed nightlights everywhere, had paintings made, sent positive energy to the universe or just took time to send me a funny meme, a photo of your pet to make me smile, or a “how are you?” 

You know who you all are.

And I love you.

ALL OF THIS MATTERED. So much. It saved me. I felt it all. Deeply. 

The world is still full of kindness and love… in case you were losing hope.

I actually sometimes used visualization to imagine sucking up your strength and energy to help heal my injured soul. Pre-COVID, I may have hugged you a little too long, . I was just sucking up that last drop.

I also know and understand that you are grieving too. You grieve the loss of Wade from this planet, we walk together in sadness. Permission granted. It is okay to talk about him. It is okay to bring it up. If you think it far from my mind for even a second… nope. I predict it will forever be a part of my ever-living moment. Awake or asleep. It is just there.  

I do not know how one goes through such life experiences without serious growth. I have learned a ton. About myself, depression, being present, suicide, friendships, trauma, resilience, vulnerability and what actually helps when people are in a crisis. I have read about the afterlife, prayed so many times, and really experienced the meaning of, “Be kind: You never know what someone is going through.”

I remember in the early and worst days, I was so distracted that I was a danger to myself. My friends drove me to therapy and home, or anywhere else I needed to go. In those early days I was so distracted and consumed. I accidentally threw away my cell phone. I cracked eggs into the sink instead of a pan. I put the ice cream away in the fridge. I did not add coffee grounds and made hot water. I forgot to feed my children. 

I often got lost driving to the places I had been a million times.  

On one of these days, mind reeling, I pulled a little too far into the crosswalk. The pedestrians who were crossing were clearly put off by my front tire being slightly in the cross walk. They shook their fists and cursed me out as tears started to roll down my face. 

You have no idea.

Those angry fists kinda destroyed my afternoon. 

Just. Be. Kind. 

Yes, I wish this had never happened. I wish you did not have to say my name and feel sad for me. I don’t want your pity to be a part of my life story. I have worked hard to get where I am. I still have sooooo much. I am grateful. I am strong and always have been. I have so much to be grateful for. My beautiful children top the list. My amazing tribe, including anyone reading…also at the top.

Admittedly, this one took me completely out and I thought I may never get up. (She is down for the count.)

I got up.

Then COVID brought another uppercut as I was just gaining footing. I lost a friend. Things were getting tough and uncomfortable for everyone. 

Then my dad died in April. Powerful unexpected hook to the jawline. 

But, I am still standing. Though my footing is still shaky. 

I will not trust any rug. 

Do not ever say “Could it get any worse?” …it could. 

People face tough situations every day. Some of my favorite people have also recently experienced unthinkable loss. It’s painful. So very painful. 

I recently listened to a podcast where the mother had a horrible scare and almost lost her daughters. She spent much of her time afraid to be happy. Afraid life would shift again. I get that. But I am now focused on trying to find joy every day. I have thought long and hard about being a solo parent. Not, “single parent.” If you have an ex who is alive you are a single parent. I am a solo parent. And as my boys’ sole remaining model of a parent, I want to actually LIVE the rest of my time on earth. I want to show my kids how to live with purpose and joy. People say it takes a village. I am so blessed as my village (city?) loves my boys and are here to help me raise them, support them, guide them to be the amazing adults I know they are supposed to be.

Thank you to all my friends, amazing family, people I have met briefly and or strangers who have stood by my side. May we all show kindness in 2020. 

Forever grateful, 

Chris, Zak, Josh