“Grief is just love with no place to go.” ~Jamie Anderson
This week, my best friend from childhood would have turned 41, and it’s also this time of the year when we collectively celebrate a new year. But this new year now marks ten years since he left this world, and yet I still find myself navigating what his loss means to me. Grief is not a straight line. It doesn’t follow predictable stages, nor does it have an endpoint. It twists and turns through days, months, and years—softening, flaring up, and shifting like waves on the shore. I used to think I had to “get through” grief. But now I understand grief is part of the journey of loving someone deeply.
If you’ve lost a loved one to suicide, I want you to know this: you are not alone. There is no “right” way to grieve, no timeline to follow, and no manual for how to move forward. But I’ve learned that healing, in its own messy and beautiful way, is possible—and so is hope.
Remembering Him: A Life of Wit, Intelligence, and Adventure
I wish you could have met him. My best friend was brilliant—so sharp, articulate, and funny that he could leave you both stunned and laughing in the same breath. He had this way of making a joke out of anything, and his sarcasm and passion for pyrotechnics on the Fourth of July were legendary.
He was well-traveled and well-read, with an insatiable curiosity about the world. He loved debates—not arguments, but real, thoughtful conversations where his analytical mind would shine. He could explain the most complex ideas with perfect clarity and always made you feel like your thoughts mattered too. Even as a teenager, he asked big questions about life that made you think, “How are you so smart?” But then he’d do something ridiculous like sneaking into my parents’ house via a window when we weren’t home only to call them directly to tell them that he’s in fact having a BBQ at their house and they’re invited but to pick up more hotdogs before they got home. This memory still makes me laugh.
And yet, despite all his brilliance, humor, and ‘I can do anything’ attitude is what I remember most. I can still hear him belting out Linkin Park lyrics in the car, mockingly overdramatic just to make me laugh. It’s one of the reasons I play their music every year on his birthday: it makes me feel like he’s still right there with me, singing along.
Forgiveness and Healing on the Journey
In the early days after his death, grief was consuming. I carried guilt like a heavy shadow—wondering what I could have said or done differently. At that time, we had grown into adults and weren’t as close as we once were, but I kept playing back our last conversations over and over and wondering if I could have done anything or if we had been closer, would I have seen something others didn’t? Would the outcome be any different? Over time, though, I’ve come to understand that forgiveness is part of healing. I’ve learned to forgive myself for the things I didn’t say, for the ways I couldn’t see his pain, and for not having the answers I so desperately wanted.
I’ve realized forgiveness is not about erasing the hurt but releasing the blame we carry—for ourselves, for them, or for life itself. It’s about softening into love and allowing it to be enough. If you’re struggling with guilt, I encourage you to explore this thoughtful piece on letting go of blame from the Alliance of Hope. It reminds us that guilt is common in grief, but it doesn’t have to hold us back from healing.
Honoring Him Through Connection
One of the ways I’ve found comfort is by honoring my friend’s memory in small, meaningful ways. On his birthday, I call or visit his parents, who have become like an aunt and uncle to me. Their home is full of his presence—memories and echoes of his laughter in their stories. We reminisce about his quick wit, his adventures, and the joy he brought to our lives. Through them, I feel his presence. Grief can feel isolating, but connection changes that. It’s a reminder that the people we lose still live on in the love we share.
If you’re looking for ways to honor your loved one, Alliance of Hope offers beautiful insights on creating rituals for healing. Whether it’s listening to a favorite song, visiting a meaningful place, or sharing stories with friends, these small acts of remembrance can bring both comfort and connection.
Building a “New Normal”
For years, I resisted the idea of a “new normal.” It felt like moving forward would mean leaving him behind. But grief has taught me that love doesn’t disappear—it changes form. Building a new normal means creating a life where their memory has a home. For me, it’s in the small things: listening to Linkin Park on a drive through our hometown, cracking a sarcastic joke in his honor, or spending time with our mutual friends and reminiscing and laughing about his antics.
Grief doesn’t mean letting go; it means finding ways to carry our loved ones forward. It’s about integrating their memory into the fabric of our daily lives—through small rituals, shared stories, or how they continue to inspire us. As Alliance of Hope beautifully explores in their blog, “Integrating Their Deaths into Our Lives,” this process is deeply personal and evolves over time. Healing isn’t linear, but with connection and hope, it becomes possible to weave their presence into a life that honors their memory and our journey forward.
You Are Not Alone
If you’re reading this and grieving a loved one, I hope you know this: there’s no right way to do this. Some days, you’ll laugh. Some days, you’ll cry. And if you’re like me, some days you’ll scream Linkin Park at the top of your lungs. And some days, you’ll do it all at the same time—and that’s okay. Grief is as unique as the love we shared, and you are not alone on this journey.
The Alliance of Hope Online Forum is a space where survivors of suicide loss can share their stories and find support. Whether you’re looking for words of comfort, advice, or just someone who understands, the forum is a place to connect with others who get it.
To My Best Friend, on Your 41st Birthday:
Today, I celebrate you. Your wit, your intelligence, your sarcastic charm, and your ability to make life feel a little brighter. I celebrate the way you challenged me to see the world and made me laugh when I needed it most.
You are missed every day, but you are not gone. You’re here—in the music we loved, in the stories we tell, and in the way I carry your memory forward with love and laughter.
To anyone else navigating this kind of loss, I hope you’ll take a moment today to honor your loved one too—by listening to their favorite song, sharing a story, or simply saying their name aloud.
“What we once enjoyed and deeply loved, we can never lose. For all that we love deeply becomes a part of us.” – Helen Keller
Happy Birthday, my friend. You are loved, and you are remembered.
