No sugar coating the reality of my existence. I’m living in the aftermath of another relationship cut off too soon. Back in 2020, my husband of 23 years left suddenly in the wee morning hours without any sound or notice. I discovered him the next morning on the floor of the downstairs bathroom. Our love story was over. One thing I knew for sure was that he did not want to leave. We had everything going right.
A few years later, I had a memorial for him. It took me a really long time to heal and reach a point where I could be around people and help them heal, too. I rekindled a friendship with one of my late husband’s childhood friends, who was also one of his very best friends. He loved this human and was enamored by his selflessness and freedom of soul, to wander the earth and try to do good. After a few months of connecting, we decided it would definitely be weird, but we should give ourselves a chance. We had an attraction and many commonalities, but also a lot of differences. It seemed the right thing to do. We soothed each other’s souls and navigated our grief together, building a powerful connection. And off we went on life’s journey. I really felt he was my twin flame in so many ways. We were so alike, only I had done the hard work and evolved; he had been thrashing about just trying to survive. I recognized this early and proceeded to try to give him every opportunity, everything he needed to heal. I failed.
Last Wednesday, for reasons I will never know, he took his life. We had plans, we were doing so well. In hindsight, I see the red flags I ignored. He had severe mental issues that he wouldn’t deal with. He was a man. He didn’t need pills; he didn’t need counseling. Like someone else I knew, he had severe brain trauma at an early age, and he knew his brain was messed up. He sought help, but got discouraged with the process. He self-medicated, which tore us apart. In the end, he’s no longer in pain, and those of us left are asking all the questions, wondering what more we could have done.
Suicide is so messy, and I never thought I would be here. He was my best friend, my confidant, the person I woke up with, went to bed with, and spent my days with. Now he is gone. I will never be the same.
Another Chapter Ends
2 responses to “Another Chapter Ends”
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Oh, Candy, I am SO SORRY! I have no words.
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Thank you Auntie M. I’m trying my best to manage.
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About Me and My Grief Journey
My grief journey began in the Summer of 2020. I became a widow overnight. Without warning, my entire life was turned upside down, broken into pieces I didn’t know how to put back together. Writing became my anchor—my way to breathe, process, and heal, even in small, fractured moments.
After losing Eric, I was diagnosed with PTSD, complicated grief, and an anxiety disorder. For a long time, I was paralyzed by my own emotions. I traveled across the U.S. for over two years, mostly alone, learning how to carry myself through the aftermath of sudden loss.
Along the way, I found love again. Greg became an important part of my life, bringing companionship, laughter, and even new challenges. Losing him to suicide has been another unimaginable heartbreak that shapes much of what I write here. Through it all, my emotional support animals —Odin (dog) and Freija (cat)— keep me grounded and remind me there is still love, life, and care to give.
I moved and now reside in Chicago, Illinois. This city, this home, is my space to rebuild, to grieve, and to explore who I am beyond loss.
What you will find here
This blog started as a place to house my writing. Over time, it’s become much more. Here, I reflect on grief, healing, and the messy, beautiful, often difficult journey of life after sudden loss. I write about my day-to-day experiences, the struggles and triumphs with my diagnoses, and anything else that captures my heart and attention.
My journey on podcasts
Many of my articles are available in podcast form on Spotify and Amazon Music. I welcome your comments—I love feedback. Let’s share this journey together, and maybe find adventure along the way.
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