They say the firsts are always the hardest. This is no exception. The first birthday without her. The first birthday I can’t text her and be so excited that she’d be turning another year older. She’d be 32. Too young to be gone. Much too young. It’s honestly not very fair. But then, suicide isn’t fair. It never has been. It never will be. It will always be hard.
Questions still remain. Why did she do what she did? Why didn’t she reach out to someone? I wish I had answers. But I don’t. I won’t. I can’t. Because she’s gone. And with her have gone any chance of answers.
Today has been hard. I have a feeling that it will be hard every year. As will the anniversary of her death. I’ll never get over it. Hopefully someday it will get a little easier.