Spring is a busy time in the suicide prevention community in terms of conferences and fundraisers. For me, it coincides with the death of Jesse and Bella.

I just did a training this past Saturday with one of my cohorts for the Dougy Center and am heading in a hour to the Oregon State Suicide Prevention Conference and will speak there as well. In April, I head to Colorado for the American Association of Suicidology’s conference. Possibly Ireland this fall. All this while the time ticks closer to their 5th death anniversary. Again, double edged sword, as this work keeps my mind busy and focused, and the reward is that connection with people. The other side of the sword is, as always with this time of year, I look at the memories on Facebook, and watch the last few months of their lives while my subconscious and conscious reek havoc on my system.

There is something about five years that is tickling my brain in a whole new way. I realized finally about a week ago that when that hits, my daughter will have been dead for more time that she was alive, and every time my brain actually registers that on an emotional level, my body freezes and says, put a cap on that shit Stephanie, you need to be able to keep functioning. Then I go back to the to-do lists and focus on my advocacy work.

I am going to keep this pretty short, as I need to figure out why the timing thingy on Powerpoint is not working properly for my slideshow. It goes on in back of me, showing a life full of love and family. I do it, not to make people cry, but to remind them, that Jesse was not a monster, but a loving father, friend and husband. I remind them that this can happen to anyone. I remind them, this is why my heart is broken. I finally added current pictures, of Oli, who is thrilled that I am adding current (he hates seeing pictures of him as Raffi) and of Foster and I. I love that it ends there, showing the both, holding both grief and joy.

I ask you dear readers, if you know someone who has lost someone to a traumatic death, check in every so often, and ask them how they are holding up. Especially ask around anniversaries. You may find some years are easier (note that word, not easy, but easier), and some years are much harder. There may be a rhyme or reason to it, there may not. Hold that space, do not judge, but instead, offer a hug, or ask what they need. One does not “get over” something like a traumatic death, instead, is often stumbling along a path to find their new normal, which takes so much time. This is where a community is so helpful and necessary. We all have our healing paths after this, and we all need support in various ways, what better way than to support one another.