Some days I miss you

I am a suicide loss survivor. 

That sentence still gets me. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been. It is a stark sentence that immediately joins you into a society you want no part of.  

The look of shock and pity that used to come my way has faded since I stopped telling people. 

I am not ashamed. As the years continue to go by, life changes. You aren’t forced to explain where someone’s dad is, or having to explain where a missing family member may be. 

Instead it was my high school best friend. My first love. My first person of the opposite sex that I connected so well with, it was like it was meant to be. 

And then it was gone. 

And I was left to pick up the pieces and rebuild. 

Most days I’m fine. It’s been a long time. I have an amazing husband and family, new best friends and old memories that I’m left to question and doubt. 

But some days I miss you.