Almost one year ago, my nephew Graham killed himself. I have felt several times since then that I should write something about it, but the words never came to me. I could not think of how to start such a post, or how to end it. Still to this day, I really don’t know what to write.
I could write about my usual approach to dealing with such things—compartmentalization. Wall it off. Shut it out. Refuse to think about it. Admittedly an immature, self-centered approach. And one that really didn’t work this time as the raw grief in my brother-in-law’s—Graham’s father—cries pierced right through that veil. Never have I heard that kind of hurt in a voice or seen that kind of pain written across a face.