The Sound of Scilence

I haven't touched a computer in nearly three  months. One day I was full of words and stories and the next it was gone. I have sat down and typed out a few sentences here and there on my phone, I've had many ideas of things to write about but I haven't been able to get passed the opening sentence. Maybe it was writers block or grief or depression. Maybe I had unreasonable expectations for myself. The past months have been both a mental and emotional challenge for me but as always I have come through it and here I sit ready to start sharing again.

I want to tell everyone about our amazing Christmas holiday, about Kennedy getting ready to go off to high school, the girls upcoming cheer competitions and so much more that is going on in our lives but there is something ever present that I feel needs to be shared.

Suicide

My first experience with suicide was in 8th grade. A classmate a year above me had taken her life. I didn't know her but for the photo they had posted in the hall of the school after her death. Me, being the naïve 14 year old I was at the time agreed in anger with my bitchy girlfriends that the idea of having the yearbook dedicated to her was unfathomable. Us with our high waist jeans and baby doll t-shirts could not find an ounce of sympathy for this poor girl. In our eyes it was her decision and she should not be rewarded for it. Fast forward a few years to tenth grade and there I was sitting on the floor of the high school band room with my arms around my friend while she cried bitterly because her Dad had done the unthinkable. Her teary mascara streaks ran down my arm and in that moment I realized how important that yearbook tribute was. Tributes are not for those gone but for those left behind. And here I am twenty years later wiping my husbands tears away and my daughters, all of them struggling, all of us struggling to go on. I think back to the yearbook girl and wonder how her family got through it and if they hold that yearbook close. Snapshots of those final fleeting days of normalcy before the storm of life set their sails into dark waters.

It's been my theme since this blog came about in the early days of my own families tragedy and I can't escape it. I seem to hear about daily and since McKynley's suicide three more people close to me have suffered the same tragic loss. I wonder now if this is the journey in life I am supposed to be on. Sharing my stories and speaking wise words of experience to those suffering the most unimaginable grief, when you have no answers and are made to feel ashamed you didn't do more to stop it. For now I will try to keep on writing and hoping that these humble words help just one person realize they are not alone. That there is joy and purpose in life after the darkness fades. 

Love and Laughter, 

Jen