I want to talk about suicide.
How the bright, joyful life
trickles out the cracks
of a shattered soul.

I want to talk about 2009.
How one of the leading causes of death
was suicide.
How you taking your own life
added to that number.

I want to talk about August 24th,
a sunny, average day, and how
It has become a day of darkness.
How that day became a silent day,
a crying day.
How it became your day.

I want to talk about the way
for the first year after you died
we didn't leave Mom by herself.
We needed her more than ever.
How could we trust her
not to leave too?

I want to talk about how hard it is
seeing her cry,
eyes rimmed with red
and her hair hanging loosely,
curled up in dark, dusty corners
weeping.
I want to talk about tears
how they stain our faces too.

I want to talk about family
how you left us behind.
How Grandma and Grandpa lost a son.
How Laura, Erik and I lost a dad.
How Mom lost her husband.

How Tristan, barely a day old at the time
has grown so much.
You never got to hear his first words, Dada
or see him walk.

I want to talk about
Tristan and Olivia running wildly
through sprinklers,
Grandpa golfing on the green
and fishing for bluegills.
Erik's first orchestra concert,
my blue space sculpture being displayed
at the college art gallery and
Laura's chapter leadership award for FFA.
All moments you've missed.

I want to talk about the way
we're living now –
how we still eat Sunday brunch
and afterwards we crunch together
in the back of the van
to do our traditional drive,
how we still play games:
Mondays for Monopoly
Thursdays it's Trouble.
We still snowmobile and
enjoy family,
you know, things you liked to do.

I want to talk about the way
we've learned
to live
without you.