anniversaries

Thirteen years ago today Gordon and I got married. You don't forget dates like this. Talk about for better or worse. I rarely talk about his life, and his death even less. But, this blog is for those who want to say their names and have a hard time doing so. Maybe it's a loss like mine to suicide. Maybe it's a nasty divorce. Maybe a bad, bad breakup. You want to forget it, but you can't. It's not humanly possible.

There is some shame, if you will, in the aftermath of suicide. It's a horrific event to be a part of. No less for the one who suffers enough to complete it. However, for them the pain has ended, for the survivors it doesn't end. It's hard to talk about it, so most times we don't. Memories and anniversaries of the heart get swept under the rug.  Pretend it never happened. Because, honestly, no one wants to talk about the colossal failure of what was once a loving relationship. Even I don't.

But, and there is always a but, sometimes we must talk about it. Sometimes it helps to say their name. We need to know it's okay to say their name. The shame isn't completely rational, rather it is tempered by stigma. The stigma is a wicked beast.

Thirteen years ago was a good day. Surrounded by friends and family, all our favorite people. We celebrated, we ate well, really well, we danced! It was a "for better" day. For which I am grateful. 

It's sad that the bad days, the traumatic endings take precedence over the good days. Those memories are hard to expunge. I don't expect people to say happy anniversary or remember the date. But sometimes a simple, that was a good day. I remember it well. Remember when we did this? Even a look how far you've come is comfort enough.

We do not have to live in silence. But we do have to choose to speak up. For all those who struggle with this, me included, I say own it. Honor it. Speak it. Share it.