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i remember first reading the giver when i was probably eleven or twelve.  it made a mark on me, being a voracious reader, i probably read hundreds of books throughout middle/high school, but i remember that one.

i was running on the trail the other day, just thinking about it.  the task of holding pain, the task of holding memory.  most who have seen my level of loss are in their seventies and eighties, and it doesn't seem so bad at that point to see all these pages being ripped from your book, because you know that your story is getting ready to come to a close.  the chapters are almost done and although the cross is getting quite heavy, it is almost time to put it down.  that is what seems so much, the weight of this cross for my expected lifetime... it seems insane.

and of course, none of us are promised days, and while i could die tomorrow, a 29 year old caucasian female non-smoker, runner... i would say the odds are in my favor.

it would seem to me that although people would say that i could expect it to change or get easier, in a large way my life only gets increasingly difficult.  the weight of the yoke is not getting lighter.  and it is so so difficult for me to have any compassion towards those who i feel only increase its weight.  and that's on me, right?  my pain does not diminish the pain of those around me, simply because i am in more does not mean that other's don't hurt.

where's the damn remote?  i want to fast forward my life.

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treat it.

to everyone who has never been touched by suicide,

i get it.  i used to be like you too.  here are the most common views of suicide i either heard or personally held growing up:

that person is selfish
that person is crazy
that person is a coward
they wanted to die
they were depressed for a long time and finally went through with it
there are always warning signs, so people know it's coming
that it's preventable
THAT IT WOULDN'T AFFECT ME


there is this social stigma around depression, suicide, etc.  i can't tell you what it is like to not be able to talk openly about my husband's death.  to see people either openly or privately distance themselves from my pain, search for reasons that he did it beyond the fact that he was ill and we didn't catch it in time, connect dots that aren't connected.  all so they can convince themselves that they will never know the pain, and i honestly hope they don't- but it's possible they will.  i know people whose lives…

dreams.

to my love,

i hope you know how much i miss you.  the words, of course, fall short.  but there they are, just the same.  i.miss.you.  i told addy that you and elly can live in our hearts forever, but this of course is a lie.  death is permanent and there is no living to be done once the breathe leaves our bodies.  you are not living on in our hearts, minds, or souls.  there is no living to yet be done for you.  instead we are left with our memories which time will eventually dull.  numbing ourselves to the very sense of you.  it is that way for me with my mom, my memories of her are stunted and few and we had eight years together.

does it bother you to know the only real remembrance your children will have of you is seen through my eyes and my hearts?  the sharp reality of their dad is forever lost to them.

people are trying to instill hope in me in regards to my future.  i know they mean well but it is coming off condescending.  no one but my own being knows my pain.  i am not here…
Dear Cavs,

Our playoff season started the day my five week old daughter, Elly, passed away, twelve days later my husband also died suddenly.
Your road to the finals, so fraught with emotion was also the start of a very difficult, seemingly impossible journey for me.

I started watching at game five... when we were down 3-1, I thought for sure that we would lose that game- when we won, all of a sudden- I cared.  When so many lights had gone out for me there was all of a sudden very small glimmer of hope and dare I say satisfaction possibly ahead.

It would have seemed from the circumstances that I shouldn't care whether we won or lost, so many things in my life didn't hold their meaning anymore- but I did.  I couldn't help it.  The enthusiasm was infectious.  These games gave  me hope.

I watched as you won game five and game six and I'll never forget seeing Kyrie on the bench after six holding up his seven fingers.... Here we go.

I almost regretted getting invested as I …