The Scar Remains

Well Greg, it's been just under nine months since you checked out... since you put a bullet into your brain and left the world... a long, grueling nine months... the hardest nine months of my life... harder than my divorce from Cindy.  The gaping wound of your absence has begun healing into a scar.  I still think about you all the time.... all the time!  I still miss you all the time... all the time! It's not the intense, crushing pain that it was before, but a hollow, wistful feeling. I frequently think about sharing such-and-such with you, only to realize that I can't do so.  I recall some random event that we shared, and remember that you're gone.  It sucks.  Part of me is happy that I'm moving on with my life, but an equal portion feels guilty that the intense grief is subsiding.  It feels like I'm not honoring your memory enough by allowing myself to move on and be happy.

When I think about your absence, I wonder whether or not you thought about those you'd leave behind during your final moments.  I wonder if you figured that we'd be fine (or better off) without you, or if you focused only on your own pain.  If you only considered your own need to escape, I understand.  Based on your suicide note though, I expect that you believed we'd be better without you. If you assumed that we'd be okay with your absence, you're right to some extent.  If you thought we'd be better off without you, you're dead wrong.  (That pun was somewhat intended.)  We're coming to grips with the loss of your companionship, but we'd all prefer your presence.  We miss you... more than you could possibly know.

I know that you didn't believe in an afterlife.  You know that I do.  I hope that I'm right.  I pray that in this afterlife, you see the consequences of your actions.  Don't get me wrong, I don't want you to eternally suffer, based on one idiotic, impulsive moment.  I do, however, hope that you empathetically experience what we've had to go through because of your stupid decision.  I hope that you see the crushing grief we experienced when you took your own life, and realize that it was a mistake.  I wish that you see the hole you left in our lives, and understand your error.  I hope you see us carrying on in your absence, and feel the desire to be with us... to interact with us, instead of being a silent observer... to share in our of joy... our pain... our mundane moments... our significant events, such as your kids' graduations and marriages... just like we feel the desire for you to be with us.  Again, I don't specifically want you to suffer as you see these events, but I want you to know and understand that you made the wrong choice.

Since you committed suicide, you've been in my dreams many times.  When I wake up, I'm invariably sad, but even if I could wish you out of my dreams, I wouldn't.  I'm happy that you showed up, and I cherish these dreams, because I can interact with you.  Please, keep 'em coming.  I hope that you're in my dreams until my dying day, because the memories and the dreams are all I have left.  The crushing grief has passed, but the scar remains.  I miss you, brother.