Building a deeper bench.
The anguish of loss is, for the loss of a better word, weird. There’s the initial shock, the overwhelm of the first days and weeks, and then there’s the moments that you think “Oh, I need to tell him that my dad’s surgery went well” that simply punch you in the gut. And then, in the butterfly effect of bullshit that is suicide, you’re reminded that you’re still so unbelievably angry with your loved one. Can you even use the phrase “loved one” if you’re this angry? When I dive into the “why am I angry (today)” question it really falls more under the fact I feel betrayed. Pete was supposed to be my support system as I was the support system for my parents. That was the deal. He was to help do the heavy lifting, literally, of things around their house. He was supposed to be around to listen as I shared my fears surrounding the ninth surgery for my dad in the last two years. He was supposed to the simple things like caring for our dog while I drove with my parents to out of town appoint