After losing Nathan, life changed in ways I can’t fully put into words…silence. The world looked the same, but nothing felt the same because nothing would ever be the same after losing our son to suicide. There were days I’d sit in the quiet, waiting to hear his big laugh, his whistling, or even just the sound of him yelling, “Mom! Dad! I’m hungry!” That silence was the hardest part.
The other hard part was remembering that I was still “Dad.” I still needed to provide, protect, and be there for my family in every way I could. It was so hard because deep down, I often felt like I had failed to protect Nathan. Maybe that feeling came from never really talking about my own emotions. I was taught to be strong, the provider, the one who holds everything together. Not the one who talks about their emotions, much less how it feels to lose a child.
A few days after Nathan’s passing, I started writing, trying to make sense of everything.
At first, there was no plan, no purpose, just shock. I wrote about that morning and the days that followed, about everything that had happened. Then I began writing directly to Nathan, as if he was still here, sharing my day with him. Writing became the only way I could pour out what my heart could no longer carry in silence.
Some days it was only a few words. Other days, my thoughts filled entire pages. What surprised me most was how much healing came from seeing those words take shape. Writing gave me something to hold onto when everything felt lost. Putting into words how much I missed Nathan somehow eased the pain, even if only a little. It didn’t take away the grief, but it helped me understand it better. It turned the chaos inside me into something I could face.
When I read back through what I’d written, I realized it wasn’t just grief on those pages. My love for my son was trying to find a place to go. As I kept reading through, I understood my connection or rather my relationship with my son hadn’t disappeared. It had simply changed.
Writing helped me rediscover my sense of purpose. I realized how much my family still needed me to be husband and dad, and all I had to do was be present. I was able to do that as I healed. I learned that healing doesn’t happen all at once. It happens in small steps even when it hurts.
I’ve read that grief is love with nowhere to go, but when we speak it, write it, or share it, we give that love direction again. My writing to Nathan became my way of keeping him close to me. To this day, I tell him good night before going to sleep and good morning when I wake up. I know he hears me and one day we will all be together again.
As International Survivors of Suicide Loss Day is today, I’m reminded that none of us walk this path alone, our stories, our loved ones, and our shared grief connect us in ways only survivors can truly understand.
To anyone walking through loss: don’t be afraid to write. Don’t be afraid to talk about your pain, your memories, your love. They remind us that even in silence, we are never truly alone.
If you’ve found your own way of healing through writing, art, music, or simply sharing your story, Blue Bee Project would love to hear it. Your voice might be the one that helps someone else keep going.
If you or someone you love is struggling, please know help is available. In the U.S., you can dial or text 988 anytime to be connected with support.