Often I see people sharing their Facebook or TimeHop memories, making cute little comments about a picture or quote they posted just a year ago. It’s fun.
But I don’t do it.
I don’t need to be reminded. I know this part of my history, and even more how it’s forever part of my story.
Suicide.
Suicide has now been a very real part of my story for one year. I’ve been wondering for awhile now what it would feel like to get to this date. Each time I wonder, my chest tightens a little, my jaw subconsciously clenches, and my stomach churns. I am forced to take a deep breath to calm myself and get back to the here and now. I remember asking a friend who had also lost a brother to suicide if it ever gets better, if the pain in the depths of my soul ever stops hurting. What she said I will appreciate forever. She said, “No. It won’t. But it will get easier.”
And it has.
It has gotten a tiny bit easier over the last year to think about Kyle and talk about Kyle and tell people about his suicide. It is still hard as hell, and sometimes it hits me like a crashing wave out of no where. But it’s gotten just a little bit easier.
Recently, I’ve decided to let go of a few things that I have been white-knuckle holding on to. References to suicide in music, movies, and shows. When people casually say ‘shoot me now’ or make the finger-thumb gun and hold it up to their head. When handguns are brought up. These have been intense triggers for me this last year. I feel them like a stab in the heart. While I would really love it if people could just not sometimes, I can’t control them, or the songs, or the movies. I get to work on me.
I’ve also decided to continue telling this part of my story. When you move to a new place, you get the luxury of letting people see what you want them to see. But the curveball comes when you get to know people a bit more, and they start asking questions that one would when making new friends. Like “how many siblings to you have?” Quickly followed with “what do they do/ where are they at?” My response is, “Um…3. I have three siblings…” And then I have a choice. Is this a safe person and do I trust them enough to reveal this part of my story? Sometimes the answer is no, and I can get away with just the descriptions of what Kendra and Robert do and where they live, all the while really hoping that the person who asked is poor at math. It’s not the greatest solution, but it works for now.
Yet, on occasion the answer is yes. The person is safe, and I trust the heck out of them. And so I choose to be vulnerable and share Kyle. They get to hear my full story. Every time it feels risky to me. I don’t want them to pity me or change how they treat me or even feel sorry for me. That time has passed. I only need them to know how much a part of my story Kyle has been, suicide and all.
The interesting thing that I get to decide now, as the author, is what part of my story will this play for the next year and the year after that and on into forever. I don’t have the answer just yet. I do know that it will be there waiting to be told along with the rest of this beautiful life story I’ve got going on.
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I’m so grateful for the stories that others have shared this past year. Your memories are my medicine. The photos below are a just a few of my favorites, but I would love if would post your own favorite in the comments. Thank you! xo- Kimberly











