David Kessler writes about finding meaning after loss. He says that finding meaning is the sixth “stage” of grief. I have struggled with “meaning-making” after Boris died and how to do that with such a traumatic, tragic loss. I feel like I have dabbled in ways that I can honor his memory, but nothing has felt momentous or powerful, but maybe just soothing or heartfelt. I post about Boris and grief on social media to demonstrate that I am not ashamed and I do not feel shy about the subject. I always hope it will break some of the stigma around grief and suicide. I have connected with people who have experienced loss by suicide, lost partners to any cause of death, and people who have struggled with mental health. I have done the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention walks and sent letters about mental health to my local, state, and federal legislators. I write openly on this blog and my personal blog. I began piano lessons, I got tattoos, I took his ashes to Hong Kong, I pay more attention to current events as he did, and I try to live out his kind and always friendly spirit. I do try to make meaning of my loss, but sometimes it just doesn’t feel like enough.
But then, things happen that make it all feel meaningful. A former coworker approached me at a conference and she began talking to me about her struggle with suicidal ideation. She talked about how she is more open about it now and that when she was a young adult no one was talking about it. She then said to me, “I didn’t know Boris… but he changed my life”. *Cue the tears*. She said my posts about him on social media and the way I talk about his life and his death so openly had changed the way she looks at her own mental health and how she shares her experiences with others.
That right there was all I needed to know. I worry I am not doing enough “meaning making” and doing good by him. But, the fact that his story has changed one person’s life is enough for me. If I could, I would change what happened 1,000 times over. I would give anything to have him back or change the course of his life. But, since I cannot do that, I know I have to make meaning. It doesn’t have to make sense. It doesn’t have to be a silver lining or a “reason”. But, I can make his life continue to mean something. And, her words, “he changed my life” hit me right in the heart. His life and his death have so much meaning, even beyond me and his closest friends and family. She has no idea how much I needed to hear those words.