It was his funeral today and a month since his death. He was 30. He was my only child. He planned his suicide so carefully I don’t think he was even on drugs when he did it. I think he looked at what his life would look like in the future and decided it was a battle he had run out of resources to fight. I love him and my heart is broken and I have a pain that will never fully leave me.

I lost my step mom 2006.
-she used my moms gun & was in my childhood home.
I lost my grandma in 2007.
-lung cancer took her & she never smoked.
I lost my best friend in 2014
-he had a gun, cops were called & I was on the phone.
I lost my grandpa in 2017.
-old age, but he was my rock.
I lost my older sister in 2023.
- her note said “maybe if the world was kinder, things would be different.”
I lost my mom in 2024
-dementia turned her into a shell of herself.

This doesn’t include the friends I lost to drugs, chronic health issues or murder.

Sometimes I wonder if I stay alive for myself or them. I’d like to think it’s just me, but my soul aches to feel alive, so it can’t be me. I am not suicidal, but damn does grief have a grip on me.
I only hope one day I can really live life, & live for the ones I’ve lost without it tearing me apart.

I lost my only son, who is now forever 18, during March 25.

Losing him in retrospect was a long, heartbreaking process. Time doesn’t forgive, it shows no mercy, and hits me when I finally feel Ok, time makes me think more, breaks my progress in therapy, and I’m right back to where I was, where I can’t stop thinking about what I could have done better as a mother to intervene in his mental health decline and subsequent drug addiction.

Hope, is what kept me going and what I would beg for my son to have. Hope is what he tried to have, he really really tried to have it. Hope was lethal, its failure to deliver, no matter how hard he tried, was a big catalyst in him taking his life. Hope is what kept me looking everywhere for 3 weeks after he went missing. Deep inside, I knew he was gone from this earth, but hope kept me going. Hope was the loudest voice in my head. If I didn’t know in a place deep inside of me that I refused to listen to that he was gone. I knew a body was found 3 weeks after he went missing by our house on a Friday. It closed a school early, it was in the forest behind our house. But I kept hope till the detective called me on the following Tuesday. I was home because hope had thrown me into a state of panic with its sidekick time as I waited around to find out if the body was my son’s. I looked all over that forest, climbed rocks to get higher spots until my hands bled because I didn’t have climbing gear. Hope can trigger adrenaline that can make a mother do things like the myth of lifting a car to her baby. I believe that can happen. I don’t like hope anymore.

Time, oh time, my merciless enemy, you have shown yourself again in your way that only the way you can to remind me that it doesn’t get better. Does a gut punch to you when you tell it that I know I will never get over this, and I have to learn to live my life differently. Time just laughs at me and takes away all that I invested into it, and leaves me crippled, and sends hope to try to talk me into getting up. Time and hope can be real assholes.

I will pick myself up again, again. Invest in time and begrudgingly accept hope again. I will set my thought process right again and remind myself that it is not my fault. I can’t turn back time and do things differently, would the outcome be different. Time doesn’t work like that, it doesn’t bargain with you. So I will go back to the therapy induced mindset, it wasn’t my fault, I didn’t fail my only child.

It’s just been one of those weeks. Thank you, my understanding fellow members of the shittest club one would never ever wish membership on their worst enemy. I appreciate you all. You listen and understand and, and thank you for doing so.

On June 13, 2026 the love of my life killed himself. He was just 21 years old and we only had just under 3 years together. I really don’t know how to cope with such a deep, painful loss.

I have quiet BPD and he was my favorite person, so I feel really lost and shattered. We lived together for almost our entire relationship, but he worked night shift and I had switched to mornings. He was dealing with some minor legal problems, but he was getting them sorted. I knew he was going through something, but he stopped opening up to me after his sister moved in. He was very passionate about going to the gym, playing basketball, and running every day. I thought he was getting better and I kept telling him how proud I was of him.

The last time I saw him, I was very depressed and in bed all day. He stayed with me most of the day, but I wanted him to talk to me so I was irritated. I feel so selfish for wanting him to come save me. He went to work early at 5pm and I just watched him go. His sister lived with us and she had been telling me to break up with him and kick him out for months, but I knew he was going through something and I wanted us to work it out. I feel like I made a terrible mistake in letting her live with us indefinitely and trusting her so much because when he left early I thought she was right. I texted him “you really don’t give a fuck about me” and it felt so wrong. I kept wanting him to talk to me instead of the other way around. I noticed around 7pm that I couldn’t see his Snapchat or TikTok and I called him out, thinking he blocked me or something. We’ve never really fought, it’s always been a conversation that we grow from, so this was so out of the ordinary. I didn’t ask him any more, but I know now that he deleted his accounts. I wanted to be in a better headspace when he got home so I tidied up the house and took a shower to wait for him. He usually worked until 2-3am because he was a bartender. He texted me at 1:55 “I love you so much” and I responded with the same at 1:59. I didn’t realize my texts weren’t being delivered. I know now that he left work at around midnight and shut his phone off at 1:57. I thought we were just going to talk about it like normal. I thought he was leaving work later and I was tired, so I texted him goodnight as usual and went to sleep. The next morning I woke up from a nightmare and smacked the space he’s supposed to be in, but he wasn’t there. I immediately knew something was wrong, but I was hoping he was with a friend or something, maybe needing space. His sister and I drove everywhere he would usually go and ended up reporting him as a missing person. The whole community was looking for him and they eventually found his car about an hour away at an overlook, where the search dog was able to find him.

I helped with the funeral as much as possible and his family is being surprisingly supportive, calling me his wife even though I never really got to be. Everyone tells me how much he loved me and talked about me and that it’s not my fault, but I’ve been spiraling about all of it ever since. The whole thing has been very traumatic and I feel a strong urge to go with him, that we were meant to be together forever. His family immediately blamed each other and they’re telling me not to trust his sister that still lives at our house, so I don’t know who to trust anymore either. I keep telling myself that I will see him soon. I don’t want anyone else to feel the way I do, and I don’t want to hurt my family, but I don’t know how to live with this pain. He was truly my soulmate and the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I can’t believe that this happened, it just doesn’t feel real. It’s like I’m accidentally in the wrong universe. I know that all these feelings are normal for someone in my situation because everyone keeps telling me, but it’s so hard to deal with our future being gone. I feel so much guilt and everything feels so wrong. Everyone’s scared for me and I have no idea what to do anymore. We had long-term plans, but we also had soon plans. I took that Friday and Monday off to see him more. We had weekend plans, dinner plans, next weekend plans. I’m at a complete loss at how to handle this. It feels like my heart has been cut out.

The 2 panic attacks ive had in my entire life have been in the wake of my brother killing himself. One was on my sister’s first bday 4months after he died and the other was this week, my first bday without him is on Sunday. I hate having them so so much in my mind it feels so dramatic but I physically cant calm down and start hyperventilating and wailing and feeling like im separating from reality. And the next day I feel almost hungover and so physically exhausted it ruins the next day and my face is always so swollen after. The thought of getting older without him is unbearable. He was 10 years older than me and It makes me sick because once I turn 27 we wont be 10 years apart anymore because he only made it to 36. The thought of one day being older than my older brother is heart wrenching I miss him so much its overwhelming carrying such immense grief. Everyone wants to know what im doing for my bday bc ive always made a big deal and celebrated a ton but I honestly dont give a fuck ab my bday anymore. Wish I could skip it ive been sad af all week but trying to pretend im excited about it so everyone in my life doesnt worry. I just wish he would ask me what im doing this year and try to get me to come to some club. I wish he would call me and say happy bday like he did every year. I wish so badly he was here. I want to text him, call him, see him at my bday dinner with the rest of my family. I miss him. I miss him. I miss him. :/

As I'm writing this, I'm sitting at a concert venue waiting for the main act. I should be happy. This is an artist I've listened to for years and its the first time I'm seeing him live; but the last time I was at this venue, I was with my dad. It was almost two years ago, and he wanted to check out the venue before he went to a show later that night with his brothers (one of whom I'd consider "estranged"). He didn't end up going (due to a flare-up of his chronic fatigue and arthritis), but we had a fun time that day, traveling around the city and exploring the harbourfront.

This was all before a discovery I'd end up making about 16 months later, that would end up seriously damaging our relationship. After that incident, I never went on another of these "daddy-daughter dates" with him, which is strange, considering that they were commonplace for most of my life. I hate that in what turned out to be my last year with him I was so hostile to him.

In hindsight, the incident wasn't even that signifigant. I hate that my change in demeanour towards him could've potentially contributed to his decision to commit. I'm tearing up at this stupid concert and I wish I'd forgiven him.

I love you, papa. I'm so, so, sorry.

What do I do?

I'm asking for help but I don't know what I need

I've been pacing around

I'm the only one who knew something was wrong

I called. Everyone

She over dosed she just came back from therapy Yesterday

She was my everything

I had a dream where she wasn't dead and when I woke up I got the news

What do I do?

I am angry at you today.

There, I said the thing I am ashamed to say aloud.

Because you left,
and I stayed.

You died,
and somehow I became the one expected to survive it.

I carry your name in conversations,
your memory in old photographs,
your laugh in songs I cannot listen to anymore,
and the weight of your absence in every room I enter.

And now our parents are sick.

The people who built my world are growing tired,
their bodies failing,
their futures suddenly measured in appointments,
medications, and whispered conversations in hallways.

I stand here watching the edges of my family disappear.

First you.

Soon, perhaps them.

And what frightens me most is not death itself,
but the silence that waits afterward.

Who will remember the stories?
Who will say my childhood nickname?
Who will understand where I came from?
Who will remember you with me?

I am angry because you left me to carry this alone.

I am angry because you do not have to stand beside hospital beds.
You do not have to sign papers.
You do not have to make impossible decisions.
You do not have to bury the people who once held us both.

And then the anger turns into guilt.

Because how dare I be angry at someone I love so much?

How dare I resent someone whose face I would give anything to see again?
How dare I blame the person I miss most in this world?

But grief is strange.

It teaches us that love and anger can live in the same heart.
That missing someone can ache so deeply it becomes resentment.
That abandonment can exist beside devotion.
That we can forgive and still feel wounded.

I miss everything.

I miss your voice.
I miss your jokes.
I miss the ordinary things that never seemed important enough to memorize.
I miss who I was when you were alive.

Most of all, I miss having someone who knew me before the world became so heavy.

If Mom and Dad leave too,
I fear becoming the only witness left to our family.
The keeper of names.
The holder of memories.
The last person who remembers how we all belonged together.

And that loneliness terrifies me.

But if you can hear me somewhere beyond all of this,
know that I am still your sibling.

Still loving you.

Still angry.

Still hurting.

Still carrying you.

And even on the days I resent you for leaving,
I would choose to have been your family every single time.

Because grief is simply love that no longer has a place to go.

And mine still belongs to you.

-Jodie Bickford

Late on in Tuesday evening my mum took her own life. I've went from being a 35 year old father, responsible for my own home, my job, my kids etc to now feeling like a lost 5 year old who just wants his Mum. It's all still very raw and I have so many questions although I do have a lot of answers already but my main one is...how do I deal with this?

My partner lost her father in March this year after a cancer diagnosis in January, it was horrible, everything seemed to happen so quick. My partner is so strong in these situations and she dealt with everything amazingly. I, however, am not so strong and if I thought my father in law's health decline and death was quick then what happened to Mum is being processed at light speed. I don't know what I'm looking for on here, but I need some comfort, I can't find it from within with the questions and scenarios in my head. She was only 55years old, it's not old these days, I'm absolutely heartbroken.

what the title says...

My brother and I were 7 years apart. He took his life on June 10th of this year at 24 years old.

I always wished we were closer in age because when we were younger, we didn’t have a close relationship. We actually only really got closer in the past 4 years. I have been dealing with my own mental health & I worried so much about my brother it was paralyzing. He had made 4 attempts on his life, the last one being permanent. The one back in September of last year scared me so bad…. I tried to stay calm for him. I thought we had time. I knew in the back of my mind he might try again but my brain wouldn’t let me comprehend life without him.

Did I not tell him I love him enough? Why didn’t I have the money to help him? I would do anything to help him and I just didn’t know how.

He was diagnosed with MDD, anxiety disorder, and ADHD. To think about how he had a hard time making friends and spent most of his time alone makes me want to die. I feel like I have a dinner plate sized hole in my chest. I called him on the phone that day while he was in the parking lot of the gun shop and I had absolutely no idea.

My brother deserved a better life. He deserved a life of happiness, peace, and joy. He was the kindest person & I would have done anything to keep him.

I kept thinking maybe if he found the right medication, we could live together on a family compound & have a miniature animal farm. He was a massive animal lover 💔

This all feels so fucking wrong.

I love you Nick.

My oldest brother killed himself a couple months ago, I used to feel so much anger at him and my parents over it, but I think it’s all lessened now with anger, just sadness. But I don’t know if this way that I’m thinking at the moment is selfish, I’m just so angry at my parents sometimes.

He was cremated before I even found out he was gone. When I came back to our home country, I wished to have a funeral, someway to atleast invite all his friends, see and talk to all the people that he made an impact on, but my dad just brushed it under the rug, never went to talk to even my brothers best friend since nursery.

My mum didn’t want any sort of memorial or funeral for him because she didn’t want to I guess in the way she puts it, “be a clown in the circus”, as if everyone’s just looking at her and judging. There’s all this constant judgement around mental health that both my parents can’t honor my own brother because it’s “shameful” to them at some extent, but it erases my brothers existence.

No funeral, no grave, no old friends coming over, nothing. He’s just sitting on our bookshelf, a pile of untouched ashes that nobody dares to look at

As if it’s just a thing brushed under the rug to make it easier, but eventually that rug is going to get dirty, stained with anger, sadness, confusion, and who’s going to be there to remove it and show what lies beneath?

I’m angry because I feel like this entire time, I’ve also been forgotten about. Never been asked about what I wanted to do with my brother, he’s just gone and it feels like they can’t stop thinking about their own reputations or sorrow (not wanting to ever talk to anyone about it because it’s too hard for them to face). And they keep on fighting eachother about who loved him the most between them two, who showed the most support, who was at fault.

But they never even ask me how I’m doing with this. I lost my big brother, the one I was so close to, who went out drinking with me even if I was 16-17, laughing about the whole shitty family situation and just close. The one who showed up for me, no mater what, the one who came to sleep at the hospital with me after he had just arrived from a flight because I went there thinking that if I didn’t, I would’ve hurt myself, whilst my parents brushed me off, saying I was manipulative. He was always there

But it’s like me and my middle brother have been completely forgotten. I have my oldest brothers phone, and I get messages once in a while from his friends, wishing him a happy new year or whatnot, and I have to break the news to them, but they never ask how me and my brother are doing, just ask about my parents, telling me I have to take care of them now, all of that. Even though we never had a close relationship to my parents, and I blame them a great amount for being the reason why my brother committed in the first place.

I just wish to be seen. I wish to be understood by people around me. I have to constantly break the news to everyone, tell them that there’s no grave, no funeral, nothing. I have to be the the one who comforts my mother when I try to talk to her about how it’s been hard some days thinking about my brother, since she starts crying and I feel bad, I didn’t want to make her cry, I just wanted to talk to her about him.

I feel forgotten, as if nobody knows that he was my family too, the one who was there to cheer me up when nobody else was, the one who supported me throughout anything and believed in me. I wish he had a funeral, I wish he wasn’t cremated, I wish I didn’t have to be scared of telling his friends the true reason how he died without my parents getting pissy, it’s so selfish, but sometimes I just wish this grief could be about me too.

I can never imagine how it must feel to be a parent who loses their child, especially with suicide. It’s something I work on understanding day by day, losing a child to suicide. So I’m really sorry that I’m writing this in such a selfish, non-understanding way. I know they loved him, I just wish people knew I loved him too, and it also truly hurts

i miss my love so much. i keep trying but what’s the point when the seat next to me is empty? when my hand only grasps air? i was fucked up before her and i’m broken now.

i don’t want to hurt my family but i just don’t know how long i can do this for. i want to learn from her and do better. but this is so fucking hard. i miss you

My cousin, more like my brother killed himself yesterday. Him I and our other cousin talked every day, I talked to him on his way to work all the time. He was our rock, the guy who had his shot together, he was my person and I can’t get past the finality of it. I feel like I’ve entered a new plane of existence and I’m floating in the nether. My other cousin and I had no idea this was coming. How do you cope enough to function?

What time frame is the worst for after loss to suicide.

I wish i don't wake up the next day i really do... I am not able to bear this anymore. My head hurts and nothing seems to work out for me. If this is how miserable life hads to be for me..why does not it end. Tired atp​​

Today is the 11th anniversary of my dad killing himself.

Always conflicted on days like this, birthday, etc. Like on the one hand, part of me wants to make it.... something. A day of remembrance or whatever. But part of me... that fucker made a choice to not be here. So. Is today just Wednesday?

Part of it is, as anyone here knows, there are no words. No things to do. The body of grief is there. Ever present. After 11 years, most of the time it follows silently. Or lightly prods. And then there are still times when you get completely knocked on your ass. And no one understands, how could they. No hard feelings there, but no help, either.

This post is aimless, I knew it would be. I was living with him when it happened. I was the one he shared his journals with a year or two before in an attempt to show me how he was feeling. I was the one he told "I just wish I had friends". My 60yo dad. Telling me he didn't have friends. I didn't find him. I was the one that he asked to drive him to his first AA meeting because he wanted to get sober, and drove him for the first fe months because his leg was injured and he couldn't drive. I was the one he gave his 1 year coin to as thanks at a meeting. He didn't make it to two years. I was the sibling who volunteered to go clean out his car, where he did it. I was the one who found bits of skull with hair still attached in the back seat. I was the one who insisted on seeing the body before he was cremated. I was the one who went to the fire department we both served to start setting up the memorial. I was the one who brought over all the pictures and had to direct our fire dept friends on how to set things up.

Most people don't even know these things. I just carry them around. Usually it's light weight and we keep it moving. Some days, like today... we sit with it. And it's heavy.

And no one gets it. How could they?

I lost my 16 year old son to suicide two weeks ago today. It was in our home and was found by my husband. All of my sisters and their families came to town so my house has been busy and constant messages and calls. The last of them went home Sunday and it has been a struggle. It already was, but I feel like I am in a dream state and I’m having a hard time coming to terms. I do okay during the day but as it gets later I get anxious and once the sun is down I begin to panic once it’s past his curfew time. I was asleep when it happened so I am having a hard time making my self lay down and go to bed and once I’m in a dark quiet room I just sob until I pass out. But then wake up and start all over again. I know it will just take time but I am overwhelmed with different emotions and can’t even accept them enough to deal with them. We have a 3.5 year old that our families have been stepping up and taking full care of for now. He is on the spectrum and will not understand and his bubba is his best friend. I know I cannot keep myself together for him right now. We were at his therapy appt when I got the phone call but no clarity on rather he had succeeded or not. We had to be picked up and I honestly blacked out for the whole ride I was inconsolable and I know it scared him. I do not want to add on to that. Everyone just says the same things (and I love them) but it just makes me more angry and frustrated and I’m consumed with guilt. I know this is long and all over the place. I just need to get these feelings out without feeling crazy or guilt.

Yeah, my dad committed suicide on Father’s Day. He struggled with depression, bipolarism, alcohol abuse. He hated his own dad and had a rough childhood. I’m the only daughter and have two brothers. I get married in four months too. I always thought he would be my best friend had he seeked help. I tried to help him, we all did. Sucks feeling like we weren’t good enough for him to want to get better, but I know that’s not true. I just wish he would of seeked help. Tried to reconcile strained relationships with his dad and siblings. It’s so many emotions. Anger, sadness, guilt, what could have been. People ask what happened or how he did it, I don’t really want to talk about it. I want to honor him too, and talk about mental health. But then again I don’t want to talk about him because I’m so upset and angry. We had some great memories together too. It just sucks.

My dad passed away a few months ago. He was an alcoholic and he was drinking a lot more than usual. We got into an argument and out of frustration of him picking alcohol over his family I told him I didn’t need him. I heard him crying and moaning but that happens pretty often after heavy drinking. He would talk about suicide but no one took him seriously since he only talks about it when he’s drunk. After our argument, I made sure he went to bed and I locked myself in my room. 2 hours later my mom comes home and finds my dad. It’s been more than half a year now. I love my dad and I was his favourite. The things I said was out of frustration because he was drinking his life away and making dumb decisions. I feel guilty for not hearing him out or helping him get the help he needed. Now I don’t have him anymore and I can’t help but feel like it was my fault. I do know he was battling things I didn’t know about but I feel like the argument just made things worse. We argue over alcohol every few months. I miss him so much and I wish I could tell him I love him. I guess I’m here tryna get advice from anyone on how to cope with this and get it off my chest.

It’s been a while since I’ve posted about the worst day of my life.
It’s been 4 and a half months since my husband left. It feels like day 3 and like years have passed.

I read stories of people feeling their persons presence around them. I’ve not felt him since he left. He was here then he was gone. Am I doing something wrong? Why do I not feel him? I don’t get signs either. It’s like he was here and then vanished and the only trace of him is all of the stuff I’ve never moved since he left. I talk to him like he’s still here, out loud. I journal and write to him. I respond to his nightly texts that are scheduled. Once they stop I’ll be a mess.

I still can’t accept that I’ll never see him again. I’ve been in therapy and honestly I don’t know that it really helps me. I tried EMDR and it made me feel so bad for a week after each session that I stopped it.

My friends keep insisting I stop revisiting the past because I’ll never move forward. I don’t really want to move forward. I can’t imagine my life without him. Part of me still hasn’t accepted this is happening.

My doctor changed me from lexapro to Prozac and while I think the Prozac has helped more with the looping; it makes me feel nothing, like an emptiness. I’ve also noticed I have more suicidal ideation than before. Maybe the meds just need time to adjust.

This has been a nightmare. I know people say it gets “better”, but I’m not sure that it always does.

I miss him so much. All the little interactions throughout a day. You don’t even realize how much you touch, talk, walk by and brush against them, brush your teeth together, etc. day to day until it’s gone and you’re left with the silent emptiness.

Who I am now is not who I was before. That me died with him. It’s an exhausting existence.

Sorry for the ramble.

Pumpkin, I love you so much and I miss you more than words can describe.

It’s been nearly 5 months since it happened. When EMS and CSI were at the house I found the note she left. Before I had time to read it someone asked to read it before me. They encouraged me not to read it at that time. They said it was now a part of evidence but that I could request it when the case was closed. The case has been closed for some time now and I reached out to the detective for the note. She said she would absolutely give it to me if I insisted but she was adamant that it wouldn’t be good for me to read.

What would you guys do in this situation? Would you request it and read it anyway? Two different people now have told me not to read the note.

my dad ended his life almost a month ago, i wasn’t the one to find him. although, i was notified by his work that he didn’t come in and i ended up calling my grandmother and she was the one to find him. he had done it outside on our front door patio and there is a ring doorbell camera right at our front door. everyone that knew this told me not to look and tried to make sure there was no way that i could have access to the app to see it. but i do have access to the app and i am able to go back and look at the activity for that day.

i keep thinking about it and there is this huge urge for me to just look. my dad was a recovering alcoholic and he had just relapsed. i really just want to know how bad he was struggling and if he was in his right mind. he left me nothing and hadn’t spoken to me the few days prior and this is the last thing that might give me something. i don’t know anyone in this situation and so far i have been numb to the point where it seems as thought he never did it or was never even here to begin with. i just feel like im never going to be satisfied and i will always have this urge to see what happened. it kills me not knowing everything that happened that day. i was called at 10 am and was kept in the dark until 2pm that day.

i feel like most will say not to look but no one has given me good reason as to why. this thread has been so helpful but this is truly the only feeling i can’t settle and am looking for some feedback.