Today is World Suicide Prevention Day. This day brings a range of emotions to the forefront. Wishing that I had seen something sooner. Wishing I could have prevented what happened with Erik. Wishing I’ll be able to find the right words to explain what happened to our kids.

There’s so much stigma around suicide loss. Not just for the person who has passed, but for the people they leave behind. For their family. I find myself reliving that dark day in detail today; the couple days before and the couple weeks after Erik passed. Remembering everything everyone had said to me concerning how he passed. Remembering everyone who didn’t say anything. Just remembering. Those that were there. Those that weren’t. Mostly those that were there, who never made me feel as if any of this was my fault because as much as I wanted to believe it wasn’t, it still felt as if it was. And even now over two years later I still feel guilt from the loss, not as strong, but it’s still there.

Today had me talking a lot to Erik. In the only way I can really talk to him. In my mind. To the air. Wind. Clouds. Whichever way I felt like he could hear me. And I said:

I still can’t believe you’re gone. I still can’t believe that this is my and our kids’ life now. A life without you. A life where they won’t grow up with you by their side anymore. A life where I won’t see you be the amazing dad to them anymore. A life that is now just full of memories with no new ones that can be made with you. I wish I had seen any sign. I wish you had given me any sign. Never did I think that something like this could have ever happened. Definitely not to you. But here I am with our kids. Hugging them tight at night, tucking them in, kissing them. All without you now. I relive the day before quite a bit and there are days where the knots in my stomach tighten so hard that I can’t breathe. The knots from running through each minute with you before it happened and being none the wiser to what would soon be the end of your life. I wish I could have given you the help you needed had I known you needed help. Oh how much we need you now. Each day as they get older. Each day as I continue to get through the days without you. Each day where I’m asked where their daddy is. I wish I could have prevented this. Sometimes that’s just my wish. Simply to have seen something to stop it.

So here we are. Me trying to learn the right ways to talk to our children who have been left in the wake of death by suicide. Me trying to learn how to talk to myself so the feeling of guilt doesn’t eat at me, even as much as I know it wasn’t my fault. Me getting up each day trying to make it through all the stigma that suicide loss holds while being as present in life as I can be, for the twins and for myself.