Dear Ma,

I wish I could say the grief of losing you would hit me out of no where, but the reality, Ma, the heavy weight pulls me down into dark water. There is no sun where I go. There is no blue and white buoy attached to my arms, as heavy as if they were cast in cement. For a while I was above water, sitting on the boardwalk of life, taking in the sun just as the seagulls do. I saw the dark water below and realized only as I plunged in again that for a moment in time I actually was on top. Tears are hardly new in my processing of your death. The surprise for me, Mamabear, is the physical pain that makes wanting to live seem like a silly desire. Somewhere in my head I no longer remember that you told me. That if I took myself from this life you would kick my ass on the other side. I no longer remember my therapists words on breathing and feeling my body in my seat, in my body, in that moment. I forget I have an amazing husband that is my guardian and the last person I would ever want to hurt by such an act. People have asked me, what does it feel like right before you try? I say that in my experience with suicidal ideation in unmedicated depression, when I had a plan, a place, a time, and a mode I was not thinking of anything, of anybody. I just wanted the physical pain to stop. I just wanted to see you again. Mama, I burst into the house today after sobbing all the way home from dance. I pin-balled my way up the stairs and through the blur of my tears I saw the walls leading to my bed. I could not contain the sobs and mournful cries came from deep inside my being. At once, Will was by my side. After asking what happened, and without an answer he lay beside me and pulled me to him as I begged, “Will, please help me.” You see, I can’t do this without you, Mom. I cannot see a future without you here physically on earth. And so it goes. I was sitting on the boardwalk, and now I have cement shoes, plunging me towards the bottom in dark water. Maybe tomorrow will be better. For now I am safe, I am home, I have coffee and CBD, my pups and that beautiful man I get to call my husband. Hopefully gratitude for these things can give me time to strap some buoy’s on and get back to the surface. Mom, I will have to keep you posted.