This is a guest blog, the write being a good friend of mine who I adore. In late 2023, my dear friend Sami lost her 21 year old son, Ian, to suicide. I had the privilege to attend his funeral services and it was the most painful and hard service I have ever attended. Below Sami gives us a peek into her daily life after losing Ian.

You’ve been gone two months. Two months without hearing the sound of you playing your drums, creating music, enjoying your friends, laughing at all hours, coming through the front door with a fresh coffee in hand. I miss your smile, the familiar smell of your shampoo, hearing your voice, the sound of your footsteps as you walked through the house, even the occasional slam of a door. My body literally aches for one more hug, one more, “I love you”, just one more moment, one more heart beat.

I want to smile again, without feeling guilty.

I want to miss you, without coming undone.

I want to celebrate your life, without my heart breaking. Living without you is excruciating. It’s a pain that doesn’t let up and I just can’t catch my breath.

The world still goes on and the busyness never ends. I’m walking around with an enormous wound and pretending that it doesn’t impact every movement, every thought, every hour of every day. People tell me that it will get easier and that the pain will lose its sting, but I AM NOT THERE YET and honestly, it’s hard to imagine such a time.

I cannot rush through this grief or pretend it doesn’t consume me to make those around me feel better. I need to say my son’s name and speak of him often. He was an incredible man and his life mattered – every single day of his 21 years. I don’t want healing to mean forgetting. I haven’t lost all hope or abandoned my faith. I am trying to keep my eyes on the light and not let the darkness consume me and I do experience joy in the midst of this sorrow. I have so much to be thankful for.

I do know that I need to give my grief a voice and be transparent about the agony we are experiencing. I know I am not alone in this and if there is one thing that I have learned from Ian’s death, it’s that silencing deep sorrow and pain and carrying it alone can destroy your life.

Ian, I love you fiercely and yearn for the day when I will see you again. Until then, I will walk bravely and openly through this journey and look for the light every step of the way.