All these years later, the days following your suicide mostly remain a blur. My heart ached more deeply than I ever thought possible. I curled up on the bathroom floor and scribbled poems on tear-soaked paper until I exhausted myself to sleep. I buried my pain. I drank myself numb for a long time to come. I tore the pages from my notebook and hid them away. I read them for the first time today, on what would have been your 38th Birthday. I’m not quite ready to share them, but I’m getting there. These last few years I’ve forced myself into healing. I was tired of crying at our memories. They are so full of joy and laughter, they deserve to be remembered that way. You deserve to be remembered that way. You deserve to be remembered. Happy Birthday, SD. 🖤
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