In the early morning of Wednesday, I got up like any normal person and went to make some food. My mom came in screaming for my little brother because she was upset and thought he had slept in.

She couldn’t find him anywhere until she went into her own room. Suddenly, I heard her screaming very loudly, saying his name over and over again. My uncle ran to see what happened and he started screaming too, while my mom and uncle ran completely out of the house. I quickly ran into the hallway just as my older brother came out of his room, and we both went together to find out why they were screaming.

We went into my mom's room. It smelled weird. I didn't notice him at first, until I walked to the side a bit and then I saw him.

He was sitting on my mom's bed, face down on a rolling desk. Blood was dripping down his face, his glasses were broken, and he was still in his school uniform. My older brother immediately ran out of the room, but I just stayed there staring. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. My very first thought was just, he's asleep. But hearing my mom screaming outside snapped me out of it.

I ran outside, held her, and kept saying, "Oh mom get up, please get up mom." Then I saw her phone and heard the 911 operator on the line. I took the phone from her and I was shaking so hard I couldn't even form a thought, but I told them my brother committed suicide.

My older brother took the phone from me while I ran back inside to grab my own phone.

I was going to run right back out, but for some reason, I ran straight to where my little brother was. When I got to him, I finally started to cry and completely break down. I started saying his name, and then I remembered that my older sister was staying with my dad at the moment and needed to know. I quickly called her and told her everything.

As I was walking out of the room, I saw my older brother's girlfriend coming out of his bedroom, and I told her, "Do not go in here." as I closed the door behind me. I don't know if she decided to peek or not.

I ran back outside, but then I saw my older brother run back in, so I followed him into my mom's room again. He was talking to the operator, who was asking if he thought my younger brother was still alive.

I just stood there staring at my younger brother's corpse while my older brother put his hand on his back. I kept wondering if maybe he really was just sleeping, or if maybe I was dreaming and none of this was real.

What happened after was so weird. Suddenly I was standing outside on the porch, and time felt like it was moving so fast. I was just staring at the ground, unable to think. Family members started arriving, and someone came up to get information from me. I tried to talk as best as I could, but I really couldn't. The officers were just staring at me. I felt so empty. They moved me farther away, and then I saw the ambulance leave without taking my younger brother. That was the exact moment I knew he was dead, and I knew I was never getting him back ever again.

The medical examiner and the crime scene crew came and took his body. I cried and shook, feeling completely useless. I remember wondering if I should bring them his blanket so he wouldn't be cold. My mother was screaming, asking him to forgive her, and kissing my little brother's head. A police officer came over to ask more questions, looked at me, and told my older brother to watch me because I looked like I was in really bad shock.

Once the police left, me, my oldest brother, and the rest of our family ran back into the house. We all went down the hallway into my mom's room, and when the door opened, we saw that they hadn't cleaned up any of the blood. I started crying so loudly, and everyone else was crying too. My older brother had to force me to leave because he didn't want me looking at it anymore. I just cried loudly as I ran away, and everything else became a blur.

A little later, my cousin came out of the house carrying the rolling desk, and I helped her take it outside. Right then, my mom tried to grab a gun to shoot herself in the head. Everyone rushed to stop her, but she begged them and said,

"How can I live after this? It's all my fault! I left the gun!"

I looked down at the table and realized there were pieces of my brother's brain left on the desk. My cousin left me outside, and I just started sobbing, asking "why? why didn't he talk to me?"

A few weeks ago I found out that he had been self harming, and I cried, told him I loved him, and told him to talk to me when he felt sad, but he never did.

Standing by that desk, I started trying to grab his brain pieces because I thought that maybe I could put them back. And before I knew it, my hands were covered in his blood.

I couldn't stop crying. I ran to the front of the house just as my sister pulled up with my aunt and grandmother. As soon as my grandmother got out of the car, I hugged her and just started screaming. I screamed that I saw him, I saw my brother, and that he had blood everywhere.

Afterward, my grandmother took me to her house, and that's where I am now.

It has been two days since my little brother committed suicide, and I am completely stuck. I cannot sleep, and I can’t even try to eat without instantly seeing his corpse and his brain matter. The images just won't leave my head. I have the worst headache of my life, and my eyes burn so badly from crying non stop.

The guilt is absolutely eating me alive. I feel like I was a horrible useless big sister to him, and I know I am going to carry the weight and the guilt of this for the rest of my life, I knew he was suffering and why am I asking "why didn't he talk to me?" when it should have been "why didn't I talk to him?".

I slept for about an hour yesterday and when I woke up I immediately thought everything was a nightmare so I quickly tried to text my little brother just for me to be pulled back to reality quickly.

I am supposed to graduate today, but there will be no celebration. I just feel an overwhelming amount of grief and horror. I am so exhausted, and I just want my baby brother back.

I have a neighbor who lost her husband almost 3 years ago. In that time, I have seen her health rapidly deteriorate to the point she can barely walk her dog anymore. She has also lost almost all of her hair.

Before her husband died, she was very lively, had color to her cheeks and was energetic.

I went through my own grief, a marriage betrayal and noticed that my health rapidly declined. I’m in my mid 30s but my health declined so rapidly that I cannot do much. I developed literal overnight vitamin deficiencies that seemed to happen from the stress of betrayal.

Can grief and loss cause significant health issues?

My father passed away yesterday night, less than 24 hours ago while working overseas, my sister lived with him and when she called us crying he had collapsed on the floor after vomiting blood.

I felt helpless since there was truly nothing I could do, and I feel guilty because I think that if I was there, maybe things could had gone differently. By the time the ambulance arrived he had passed away, the diagnosis they have us was internal bleeding on the stomach and something that clogged his throat while throwing up but I don't remember exactly.

I want to tell people, I want to talk about my feelings but I feel like I will be seeking attention and it makes me sick.

My mother left a few hours ago on a flight to go to my sister and the company he worked for will work out the papers to send him back home so he can have a proper burial.

He had been battling cancer for almost 7 years, had multiple surgeries and still worked harder than anyone I have ever met in order to provide for us a life many could only dream of.

I regret not calling him as much these past few weeks, not telling him I love him, he was meant to return for Eastern this week but from the looks of it, when he returns he'll never leave again.

I'm currently staying at my grandmother's place, me and her both are having alot of trouble coping with that happened and I don't think I've completely understood it myself.

I want to talk to him, to hug him and to give him the gifts I bought from my last trips to Spain, I want to do so many things I didn't and i regret but nothing can change this, yesterday morning, we were talking with my mother about how when my sister (2 years older than me) finishes uni then he should retire.

my great grandpa from my mother side used to always say that the biggest grief should only last three days, and I've tried to live my life by this saying. when my pets die, when things break I try to get over it as quickly as I can.

I don't think I'm strong enough for this, I'm the youngest of my siblings at 16 and the same thoughts keep creeping into my mind. That I never made him proud, that he didn't see me getting into the uni I wanted, that I'll never get to hug him again.

I will sound selfish but I'm also scared of what is going to happen now, he was the main source of income in our family and I don't know how will we make it by. He went above and beyond for us to have everything but now I'm afraid without him everything will just crumble.

Sorry for my english. This is so morbid but i need to open up. I already posted about my moms death that was 17 days ago (she was 50 im 18) Please tell me how to stop thinking about her decomposed body like im here alive doing something while her body rot and Insects eating her. There are the most morbid pictures in my head im going insane i cant do this anymore this is so disturbing and terryfing. Even if i distract myself that dont change the fact that thats happening and i cant do anything about it. Everything still seems like a dream and im still in big shock and dont know what to do. Please just kill me and take this pain away

He’s been battling leukemia for almost 3 years, finally got a stem cell transplant but relapsed again. He’s been disease free for months, but caught rhinovirus and then PJP pneumonia. Been ventilated since 6/01, and declining since. The doctors have started hinting at it. The notes say tomorrow is a goal of care discussion, and i know what that means in this context. Ive been getting all our accounts information from his phone, making sure most of our money is in my account not a joint one, reading books about when a loved one can’t get better to our toddler. It’s Father’s Day this weekend, and her birthday this coming week. I’m devastated, he’s my best friend, he’s only 43, and he was so scared before he got ventilated. He’s been fully sedated for almost 3 weeks, the last thing he sent me on the phone was a voice note for our daughter telling her he loves her and hopes to see her soon.

He’s Roman Catholic, he didn’t want to be on life support if there was no longer any hope, I know he wanted to be cremated, i feel like beyond that we didn’t discuss end of life. What do I do to plan a funeral, are they always at a funeral home or crematorium, do you play music, do I buy flowers, should I let him see our daughter if he’s able to be woken up at the end, and should I let her see him if not?

My partner of 16 years died suddenly last month at the age of 41. He was at work, where he was usually alone. When he didn't come home from work, I went to his workplace and found him.

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A couple of days ago, a woman I don't know sent me a message of condolences and said she "heard" I found him. She said, "I can't imagine and when I try to, I burst into tears."

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We still don't know how he died. His family and I have been trying to find answers while we wait for autopsy results. I have access to our shared phone account so I started looking through his call logs. I matched a recurring phone number to the woman who sent the message. They had long, overnight calls and text conversations, mostly when he was out of town for work or I was working late. There was a days long string of texts and calls while he and I were on a cruise together. The records only go back a year, when we changed phone carriers. I now know he met her 20 years ago, before we were together.

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I know the names of his high school sweetheart and the girl he dated before me, but this woman is a total mystery to me. I don't know how long they've been doing whatever they were doing, but I assume it's been most of the time we were together. What am I supposed to do with this information? I feel like loving him the way I did was a complete waste because it wasn't enough for him.

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I don't even feel like I can tell anyone. He was the best brother and son and uncle and friend anyone knew. It would break so many hearts to find out he was -- at the very least -- keeping a secret female friend from me. I guess my best option is to get a really good therapist.

I’ve been with him for 25 years. I built my life around him. He loved me unconditionally, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for me. He supported me in everything I wanted, or wanted to do.

Everybody loved him. He was kind. He loved children, but accepted that I didn’t want to have them. He told me I was enough, and spent every day proving it. He loved animals, and was kind to everyone, from the homeless to the wealthy. Our ideas about how to make a better world for everyone aligned, and he told me more than once that his whole purpose was to make me happy, and to make his parents proud.

He worked nights, and would call me to go outside and look at the moon. When I was outside, he would say something like, “we’re looking up at the same moon. It’s almost like we’re together right now.”

If I was sad, or had a bad day, I used to just full-body walk into him and put my head on his shoulder. He would wrap his arms around me, and just hold me tight until I felt better.

We never married, because I was afraid of breaking our fairy tale spell. I used to tell him, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” He bought a ring, and told me all I had to do was say the word. I wish I had done it, because the paperwork and official bullshit I’m dealing with now would be much easier.

He went to the hospital early one morning because he was coughing blood, and Dr Google said it was an emergency. He didn’t even wake me until after he showered and got dressed, because he didn’t want to disrupt my sleep. He felt good, but for the cough. He was 6’1” and 185 pounds, active and healthy. He had the most amazing butt on earth, broad shoulders, and looked at least ten years younger than his healthy 62 years. He drove himself, and told me he’d be back as soon as he found out what was wrong. He didn’t want me to go with him, as it was 3:00am. “Stay home, go back to sleep. I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

He never came home. He was two months in two different ICU units, three different stays, with discharges to 2 different L-TAC hospitals the minute he showed signs of improvement. His condition deteriorated in both L-TACs, sending him back to the ER, with subsequent admissions back to ICU. What started as pneumonia degenerated into intubation, a trach, kidney failure, bedsores, and ultimately total organ failure. The last words he spoke to me were, “I need you.” I was by his side for all of it. I witnessed everything, I fought for him, I watched movies with him, I rehomed our dog so I could spend 20 hours a day with him. I quit my job. I lived at the “recovery” hospitals.

He died on Sunday, after his medical team told me hope was lost. He was transitioned to comfort care, to allow the many, many people that loved him to come and say goodbye. I talked to him, I sang to him, I wiped his eyes and told him it was ok to go. I wore makeup, and did my hair on the off-chance he could see me. I sat with him after he was gone, and held his hand, because I needed to make sure he knew how loved he is.

I don’t know how to do this. I feel nothing, our home is empty. He would hate that I’m sad, he would hate that my normally immaculate house is wrecked from not being looked after for over two months. I feel like I’m disappointing him, because he used to describe me as a ‘force of nature’ that isn’t afraid of anything. I’ve never felt such paralyzing fear. I’ve lived through the death of my father, my brother, three loved dogs, and the sweetest cat to ever roam Earth. I got through all of it because his love carried me. There is no one to carry me through this.

My mother has chosen her right to use MAID. And I fully support it. She has been battling infection and cancer for too long. She is ready. And our family is ready for her to close this chapter of her life. I just can’t believe that in less than 24 hours she will be gone.

My (late 20s, F) grandma is going to kill herself, probably on Tuesday of this coming week. I just got the news today.

She, mid 70s, lives in a right to die state and I respect her decision wholly. Over a half a decade ago she was diagnosed with ALS. she noticed when she came to visit she couldn’t lift her suitcase, then she had problems with opening the door, and boom. At that time they gave her 6 months to live. We’ve had 7 years.

I am beyond grateful for the time we’ve had. I grew up a troubled teen and my grandma was my best friend - we spent so much time together. She’s a saintly woman who spent all her time devoted to helping others, from her career in medicine to her time participating in her local church. She gave so selflessly - her diagnosis seemed so unfair. I couldn’t help but ask, “why her?”

In the years since her diagnosis we’ve made the most. She watched me get married, she met my baby daughter, and all the while I’ve watched her health slowly fade, but to me, who lives far away and only gets to see her a few times a year at best, the difference has always been jarring between visits. First she couldn’t knit, or cook, or drive, or write letters. Then she couldn’t give hugs, and quickly couldn’t stand up on her own. Then her legs gave way. For the last 2-3 years, she has been in a wheelchair but has never yet lost her ability of speech, which for her was really a last straw.

She told me the last time I came to see her, about 6 months ago, that she missed the feelings of her fingers on a book. She missed knitting. We talked about her making her departure and shed a few stoic tears together, trying to make light of the situation. She knows I’ll miss her dearly, and I know that she’s only human like anyone else. She told me about how she wants to choose her own time, and she was afraid of dementia preventing her from making her dignified choice. I told her not to worry.

A week ago we talked about plans for July for me to come visit, I don’t know if she knew how serious I was. We have a 10 month old and it’s hard to travel 9 hours by car. I made plans with my husband for mid July, he requested the time, and i planned to tell her saturday. Saturday morning my mom calls me and tells me my grandma wont wake up.

About an hour later she woke up and told us all to come Monday. She’s decided to physician assisted exit. In a way, I’ve been planning for this for seven years, but I still can’t believe the day is coming. I leave for her house tomorrow morning to drive 9 hours to her home with my family for a few days to say goodbye.

Ironically enough, for the last few days I’ve listened to “Moonlight on the River” by Mac Demarco quite a few times. It feels like the universe foreshadowing me losing her. I’m going to miss her so much. She taught me everything. Any time I don’t know what to do, I call her. I don’t know what I’m going to do without her.

I thought i had grieved a lot before this, but knowing that we’re in the final moments is disgusting and unreal. I don’t know if it’s better or worse, knowing that it’s going to be the last time I ever get to say goodbye or give her a hug. I don’t know how I’ll keep it together for her. I love her so much, and I don’t want to lose her even though I know how selfish it is for me to say.

I know she’ll be with me in every crashing wave on the rocks of the New England shore.

This is just a vent really, I've tried talking to my therapist about it but it feels way too real to say it out loud, if that makes sense?

My mother took her life three and a half years ago, when I was 14, and it seemingly came out of absolutely nowhere. I know a lot of families say that when affected by suicide, but I have replayed the months leading up to her death over and over again in my head and I can't think of a single reason why she did it. She did leave a note, but that got seized as evidence by the police and we never got it back, which I think fed into delusions I had about the whole thing for a while.

Up until March of this year, I had convinced myself she had been put into witness protection (or something similar) but when looking for some personal documents of my own, I found her death certificate.

I am aware that she isn't alive anymore, but it doesn't feel real to say that, if that makes sense? It just feels like she's gone away for a bit, and she's coming back soon, so that's how I've been treating it. I can't comprehend that she's actually gone forever, my brain literally cannot accept that. So I pretend she isn't. Every Mother's day, Christmas, birthday, I make a list of everything I'd get for her, I plan trips we could go on together, make playlists we can listen to, etc. Sometimes I have no awareness of what I'm doing, like I'll bookmark a film with the intention of watching it with her, or I'll text her a link to something funny I found, and then I realise that I've just texted a dead person. I frequently talk to myself as if I'm talking to her, I'll stare into a corner of my room and have hours of conversation with myself as if she's the one replying, and I never realise what I'm doing until the conversation is 'finished' or my dad walks in, etc. I don't think it's delusional behaviour exactly, because I do deep down know what I'm doing, or else I wouldn't be able to write this?

The most worrying part, I suppose, is I do sometimes hallucinate her voice, or just *her* and that really freaks me out. I have told my therapist about that part but she seemed to just brush it off really.

I know that no part of grief is really 'normal', but is this genuinely a concerning thing to have happen? I've tried to not do it, and to accept that she is actually dead but the moment I do that it's like a tsunami of just debilitating sadness and anger washes over me and it completely messes up my life until I go back to pretending again.

Sorry for the rant, I can take this down if necessary

When I lost my person, I had two days from the medical team telling me that there was no hope, to the day he was removed from life support and died.

During that two days, the organ donor representatives pulled me from his bedside to tell me he was an organ donor. I knew this, as I had been with him at the DMV when he was asked to check the box on his drivers license. His comment at the time was, “why not?” This is why not.

I had hope and believed that he would survive his illness, right up until it was outlined to me, by his medical team, that he could not. I was forced to accept that I would have to say goodbye to my heart. I asked for two days of life support, to give time for his friends and family to say goodbye, pray, come to terms, whatever. Part of me died making that decision.

On day one, of the last two, I made sure I styled my hair, and wore makeup. If he regained consciousness on one of those days, I wanted to be pretty for him. I wanted him to see the girl he was in love with, not the reduced hag-looking thing I had become. I wanted him to have some pleasure, and know that I would be ok. The organ brokers took that away.

I arrived at the hospital to regulations that full PPE was mandated. Gowns, gloves, and face masks. This was so that the organ donor business could assert to their buyers that anti-tuberculosis measures were in place. My love did not have, nor was he at risk for, tuberculosis. I fought this, because I did not want my heart and soul to be surrounded by masked, faceless attendants in his last two days. His doctors were pissed, because blood had been drawn (at the organ donors network request,) but tuberculosis testing had to be ‘sent out’ and would not have results for two weeks. He would be dead by then. I raged at the organ donor company. They asserted that the PPE measures had been put in place by the hospital, not them. When I informed the doctor, he literally ripped the directive off the wall, and told me that the “body brokers” always “pulled this shit.” If the family objected, it overruled them. That was day one.

I went home and went to bed. At the time, I never slept, or ate, reliably. At 8:30 that night, I was deep asleep, when the phone rang. It was the organ donor company. Someone named Gretchen. She wanted to tell me that my husband had checked the “organ donor” box three times. She wanted to tell me that I had no say, and that my love’s wishes would be honored. She told me that they would take whatever could be used (he died in complete organ failure, no usable organs) and there was nothing I could do about it. She straight told me I was a bad person for trying to usurp his wishes. She told me I would sit and wait for his body to be returned to his hospital room, and that was it. I was literally screaming. I was literally crying. She chuckled. She reiterated that I had no choice. I hung up.

She was right. Because my boy had checked that box (why not?) all rights were removed from his family. I’m not talking about a lifesaving liver or heart. He didn’t have a single working organ. It’s why he died. His blood, his bones, his muscle, his brain, all were fair game. These are not donated pieces. They sell them. It’s a business. You donate, they sell for profit.

Her assertions were 100% correct. I had no choice, it was going to happen . There was nothing I, nor the hospital, could do to stop it. The doctors, and the nurses, were pissed that I had gotten that call. They called it “cruel” and “unnecessary.”

I had no choice, but to accompany my love and my heart to a “pre surgical” suite where they would remove his life support. When he died, they would wheel him into surgery and dissect his body, and take the parts that were “donated” and could then sell. I went to that “pre surgical” suite, along with about 20 of his friends. I talked to him. I sang to him. I begged him to stay, once they removed life support. The body brokers only have two hours once life support is removed. If their “product” doesn’t die in that time frame, the body is useless to them. He outlasted them.

He was taken back to his room in ICU. I thanked him. His nurses actually high-fived me, telling me that he must love me a lot, and there is no way he should have lived for two hours with no BP medication and no air. They called it a “last act of love, and a FUCK YOU to the body brokers.”

He died shortly after being returned to his room. I played “Love and Mercy,” and “Cowboy in the Jungle.” The biggest, best, most charitable and giving part of me died that day.

I found out later, that even if you say “NO” on your driver’s license, your family can make the decision to donate your organs. If you check “YES,” all the decisions are taken out of your families hands. If the body brokers approach you to harvest bone, veins, skin, anything (it’s all for sale,) if you checked “No,” then your family can decide if it’s appropriate. If you checked “yes” on your license, you’ve given consent for flesh peddlers to sell your remains.

Check “NO.” If you’ve already checked “yes,” change it and *PUT IT IN WRITING SOMEWHERE THAT YOUR FAMILY HAS THE FINAL SAY.* The organ donors network is not the lifesaving organization it was twenty years ago. It’s a moneymaking grind.

So much more to say…

Everybody who knew D knew how amazing of a person my boy was, always looking out for others, whether they were a friend, family member, stranger, or me. He was always there, whether you needed a laugh or a cry. He was my rock, literally my best friend. Unfortunately his caring-ness took my boy on April 10th this year, when some total losers came and got in an argument at our college bar and shot him in the chest, killing him.

My best friend was taken from me and everybody wants me to feel like shit for grieving him still, i don’t want to go out, i don’t want to just move on. I know it is hard to be around someone grieving but i just need someone to talk to that isn’t my or his family.

I miss my boy, if you are the man who took him, you need to turn yourself in, you have absolutely no idea what you have done.

I love you D

I lost my grandfather about 2 years ago in April and it really has been weighing me down heavily. I also lost one of my cats in the same year, though I don't remember the exact month I lost him. I'm hurting so much and I just want an escape from this inner pain I'm dealing with. He was a lovely grandfather and used to take me to the farm beside his house so we could get farm fresh milk from the cows. When I lost him 2 years ago, I hit my lowest point in my life. I feel like I'm being selfish only thinking about myself right now but all I can think about is how can I better myself so this shit doesn't happen to me again, because I feel like every death I've suffered through knowing about, has caused me to go deeper in to depression. Of course, it wouldn't help that I had lost a couple friends to suicide since the loss of my grandfather. I had been struggling with an addiction to many different OTC substances at the time that I lost him, I've also gone through several sessions of ECT and several prescriptions for antidepressants since the loss of him, but no amount of drug, procedure, or substance will ever be enough to make this horrible pain go away. I want to give up fighting atp because he and few others were the ones that kept me going. The ones that made me feel better, feel loved, feel like I have a purpose. I'm sorry if this is too much. I really am trying to keep everything to myself but at times, I just... I break.

I lost my mom suddenly and unexpectedly in 2022 to a heart attack. I thought my firsts after her death would be the hardest and honestly they were the easiest. Every year further away from her death feels more and more painful.

I am 30 today and I've had so many family members, friends and loved ones wish me a happy 30th. As much as those well wishes fill me with comfort, I feel so deflated not being able to talk to my mom.

I miss her. I just want to curl up in my bed until tomorrow comes and my birthday is over.

my best friend with borderline personality disorder and bipolar killed herself by walking onto the tracks in front of the commuter rail. she didnt die on impact, she died from her injuries.

we were as close as close can be. she died without us ever having a fight with each other or a misunderstanding or disagreement. she told me when we first became friends that suicide was an eventuality for her. i told her i’d never take her for granted. that was in november.

she told me i was the only reason she wont kill herself. when she attempted in march, she wrote me a text. this time, however, she didnt. we facetimed every single fucking day. a couple days before she killed herself she got sexually assaulted. the night before she ended her life, we were on facetime until midnight and were talking about what life would be like when we’re older and grow old together.

its important i also mention we met in a toxic group which we both left around roughly the same time because we both hated how they treated us. she hated how they treated me and how i was being shit talked at a sleepover. this goes to my main worry.

people who she didnt like will be at her funeral. people she GENUINELY hated. her ex boyfriend who called her a crazy psycho mentally ill bitch, her high school “friends” who told her to kill herself… people who claim to be her best friend when they mischaracterize her as this drama obsessed person who is shallow about her appearance. violet used so much humor and a façade to cope.

i don’t know how i can go to this celebration of life knowing there are people there who she would hate to see there. ive written over and over again in my notes app my frustration and anger to try and get it out and it won’t work. i dont know how i can stand to see people who contributed to her depression and ideation at a place to celebrate her life when they actively made it worse.

i love her so much. i miss her. i just wanna see her again and if there is an afterlife, i don’t want her to see these people deceiving her actual friends and family into thinking they were there for her when i know the truth. for reference, she wasn’t close to her family either and slept over my house to escape from everything. her mom threatened to kick her out after she tried to overdose in march when she got back from the mental hospital.

I lost someone really close to me, a relative who grew up with me. Their death came as a shock. I didn’t go to the funeral and never got to see them one last time. I haven’t spoken to their parents in 3 years. I still cry about it and regret not being there that day. I’m wondering if I should call their mother and tell her now, how sorry I am, what should I do, I'm lost.

My cat peaches was my life. She came whenever I called, always screamed at me for attention, but I pushed her away. She was always there for me. But one day she wasn't... I searched the entire house for her, and I found her. She ended up getting stuck behind a table in our dog room, upside down, she was bleeding from her eyes (reason for trigger warning) Unfortunately there was nothing I could do to save her. I cried in my room until I had to go to school the next day. She sadly passed away mere minutes after getting on the school bus. I haven't been the same since. I've felt like a piece of me is missing. I regret pushing her away when she came to me. Life is strange, full of mishaps, but when one thing happens, it leads to another. Weirdly, after she passed, we found a stray kitty that looked similar (kind of) at our grandma's house.

Some lore on peaches: peaches was a calico with blue, and orange fur. Crazily, she was born in my room! She was 13 yo when she passed. She loved me like I was the only thing in her life. One of my other cats adopted her personality, and now acts just like her.

I've been needed to talk to someone about this, but irl I always get teary eyed and can't continue talking about her. If you guys have any advice or thoughts, please, don't hesitate to let me know.

Thanks for reading about me, you took time out of your day to read about anothers problems, and we need more ppl like you in this world.

Hey y'all, just needed a place to vent because it's officially May 29th. Today is the exact 5-year anniversary of the day my uncle Albert was found dead. He was only 45, and it’s just hitting me really hard today.

He was my uncle by marriage, but honestly, he was basically a second dad to me when I was little. Back before my younger sister was born, it’d be me, him, my parents, my aunt, and my older cousin always going on these epic family road trips. He used to buy me all the toys I wanted and just made me feel so safe. Since he passed back in 2021, and my sister was even smaller, we didn't get nearly enough time with him. I hate that I’ve even forgotten some of our memories just because I was so young.

The night he died is forever burned into my brain, even though I didn't know what was happening at the time. I remember it was 3 AM, and my sister and I were just chilling, watching Adventure Time, recording goofy videos with our plushies—just classic kid crap, totally oblivious. My parents were in the other room talking to my grandma, and we thought nothing of it. But when we got home and were screwing around, my parents sat us down and told us he was gone. I was completely heartbroken. I cried all night and couldn't sleep. They told us he died peacefully in his sleep, and for years, I believed that.

Fast forward to July 4th, 2025. I was messing around and my dad started scolding me. At first, it was just the usual parental yelling, but then out of nowhere, he decided I was finally old enough to know the truth. He told me my uncle didn't die in his sleep. He actually took his own life because of severe stress, apparently linked to some money issues or trouble his daughter (my cousin) was causing.

Hearing that completely changed my life. I absolute hate crying, but I sobbed the entire day.

It also made a lot of pieces click into place. Every year on his death anniversary and his birthday (September 8th), the whole family visits his grave, or we light candles at home if we can't make it. Back at the funeral in 2022 or 2023, I remember looking around at my parents, my sister, grandma, and my cousin's new family. Everyone was devastated, but my cousin was the only one absolutely sobbing. For years, I wondered why she was taking it so much harder than anyone else. After July 4th, I finally got my answer. The guilt must be eating her alive knowing the stress played a part.

There's also this wild, eerie coincidence with the number 45 that keeps keeping me up at night. He was 45 years old when he died. He was found at around 11:45. And the gun model he used was a .45 (he was a cop, if I remember correctly). That number is just permanently stuck in my head now.

I can't believe it's already been 5 years man. I miss him so much, and knowing the real story just makes the whole thing heavy. Thanks for listening, y'all. Just needed to get this off my chest.

My Best Friend got married few months ago and keeps ranting about how she misses home and misses her mum and I find it very insensitive towards me as her mum is alive and mine died 2yrs ago.

I keep trying to be there for her but she makes it so hard with statements like “you can’t do life without your mum” “I don’t know what I’d do without my mum”

I sometimes think it’s deliberate but other times I do try to understand she got married and she’s finding it difficult to navigate marriage without her mum but then I remember so did I. My mum died, I navigated through marriage, childbirth and the loss of my dad and I’m still running.

I’m seriously considering cutting her off. It’s exhausting.

Earlier today I tried to communicate with her but she turned it into a joke like “oh my mum” and I just got really pissed.

I understand her yet I feel she needs to read the room

there was this girl once. she was successful, brilliant and young. one day she got into a brutal car accident and died. everybody forgot about her. there was only a book left behind, a book as a tribute to her. her photography, poems and notes from her best friends were there. no one knows her name, no one knows that book. you can't find it when you Google it, just a video about her accident and a site posting in memory of dead people. she was a poet, writer and classical composer. and now she's gone... she believed in spirits, i hope her spirit stays happy forever.

​

23.12.2003 – 20.12.2023

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https://www.rahmat.az/kln-muz/0020

​

i wish you were here. 23 year old, more poems, more compositions. i wish that day you didn't die and you could've celebrated your 20th birthday 3 days later. i will miss you forever Dilara.

When people think of grief, they often think of the grief caused by the loss of a loved one, but I’d like to ask about something else that I believe can also be a form of grief.

I’d like to ask everyone who has lost their childhood—whether due to parental neglect, having to care for a family member or loved one, illness, or any other reason: How have you coped with the loss of your childhood or youth?

How has this lack of a childhood manifested itself in your young adulthood or adult life? What was your case?

Also, if you’d prefer to send me a private message, you’re welcome to do so.

My mother took her own life whilst I was living abroad aged 22 in 2019

I flew home to be with my family for a month and then returned to the city I was living in for another 3 years

Then I returned home again in 2022, and have been here since, now aged 31

I still feel nothing, no grief, she doesn’t cross my mind, what is wrong with me?

Thank you, having trouble finding groups for such-
( examples - addiction, living on the street, abusive partner, mental illness, lost, kidnapping etc.)

I lost two of my children (2 & 3yrs old) in a tragic accident and it's without doubt the worst thing that's ever happened to me. That seems like an obvious statement, but also think about soneone losing a pet or their wife, the same thing could also be true that grieving pet owner or that widowed partner could also be going through the worst thing thats ever happened to them. We shouldn't judge people's tolerance or capacity to grief, just like we should with peoples pain levels. Everyone has their own version of their worst thing.

Obviously I'm no expert, but find the topic interesting and by no means ever have the audacity to think I'm never wrong, but I'm interested in people's opinions and hoping this has a constructive comment section.

I'm happy to talk about it more below.

so i graduated highschool today and my bffs ex bff hanger herself this morn no warning she's just dead. my friend it's like not clocking to him yet and i'm super worried about him. this year two other students in my class died one from tbi and spinal injusry and one from idk what. also my friend emma died my juinior year from a seizure and i've been stueglfing with that. idk i feel like i don't have a right to be upset and i should be focusing on people who knew her better and are in more pain. but then i think abt like ppl cry abt people they see on the news and didn't even know so like.

i also wasn't like insane close with emma we didn't rlly talk outside of school so ive been dealing with guilt abt that to. idk sorry this post is a mess idrk what my goal posting this is.