I mentioned earlier that the most constant comment we heard, and it continues to this day, is from people who “just can’t imagine.” At least those people said something.

We were totally amazed at the outpouring of love we received from people when Laura died. The funeral home was full visitation night and the next day for her service. People we hadn’t seen in years showed up. My former students and their parents came, along with a wonderful group of my former Berkner colleagues. A large collection of her Austin friends came en masse Friday with more driving up and back on Saturday. My best friend in high school drove up from Conroe. Craig’s friends showed up with hugs and food and surrounded him and us with compassion. Charitable donations we requested in lieu of flowers came pouring in along with cards and notes. Ironically, I don’t remember even how I made it through the days from the time she was found until the funeral, but I remember well who brought comfort with their presence.

Sadly, I am also aware of the “friends” that never bothered to even a card.

Being ignored by people who I felt affection only added to the pain of our loss. Which brings the point that people claim they don’t know what to say to express sympathy. I tell you that what you say isn’t important as long as you say something! We were always very transparent about our daughter’s illness, and we never considered hiding the fact that she committed suicide.  We believed, as our minister said at her funeral, “Laura did not kill herself. Her disease killed her.” If reticence on being sympathetic was because she took her own life, then it was a compound wrong.

I still look at the cards we received and the comments posted on her Restland Obituary page because they bring me joy. People who knew and loved our Laura knew what an incredible woman she was despite the fact she battled such an awful disease. On the first Mother’s Day after her death, I received two cards from people who knew what a hard day it would be. I cherish those cards and those people. Another of her friends who lives in Spain continues to send flowers every year at Thanksgiving. She remains thankful for the childhood friendship they shared. I remain thankful for her.

I read this somewhere and am sorry that I can’t give credit to where I got it, but it said: “What we all still face at the close of each day, and that is a missing piece of ourselves, a gaping painful wound that never closes. We live with the frustration of knowing that this is a pain that we must endure for the rest of our lives, and that my friends is so tiresome and sad.”

I couldn’t have said it any better.

Because of this reality, it is important for those of you supporting a grieving friend or loved one to remember, they are forever changed, and they are forever broken, and they are forever grieving

When someone dies, another person feels pain. It makes no difference what you say, what they hear is “I care about you.”

What I wish I had done differently after she died is next