Dear ones, I'm over 9 years out from losing my husband & children's father to suicide. I was one month shy of turning 36 when he died.  We were together for 12 years, married for a little over 9. He died by suicide at age 34 on a beautiful Fall Minnesota September day. I will always feel heart pains when the weather is still warm, the leaves changing, and the date creeps near September 10th. Our children were 4 years old (daughter) and 23 months old (son) when he died and today? They are brave, happy, kind-hearted, intelligent, and simply amazing human beings. I see so much of him in each of them which means he is still with me and he lives on in them.  ​ Before he died...I never, ever thought he would leave me. And then? He did. In the biggest and grandest and most permanent way. And now all of these years and all of this pain later?  I understand that I'm eternally grateful he was in my life because I wouldn't have our beautiful kids if I hadn't been married to him. That's the painful duality of life. I would go through ALL of the pain of losing him again because I would never erase my beautiful babies from existence.  We must be women who have strong content of character and moral courage. We must tell our stories with GRACE.  ​ When my own rage in the early days and months would boil and I would feel so incredibly angry not that he abandoned me because I'm a grown person who can take care of herself but that he abandoned our kids...this is what helped me: I would think of the pain he went through and that he possibly instantly regretted pulling the trigger the moment his soul left his body because? He doesn't get to raise our kids. He doesn't get their hugs or kisses or to hear their laughter. He doesn't get to apologize. He doesn't get anymore birthdays or holidays. He doesn't get to be a grandpa to their possible future children or walk our daughter down the aisle one day. He doesn't get to see them grow up and become amazing people. He doesn't get to live his life but I still get to live mine. I'll say that again. His life is gone. Poof..his beautiful life. Gone. And I still have my life. I can still cry and laugh, climb mountains and start over a billion times. I can still go to the movies and eat popcorn and go to coffee with my gal pals. I can still see my parents and walk through the woods with my dog. I can still chase my dreams. I can still breathe. I can still feel joy and deep sorrow. I still have a chance. So I take this very, very seriously. I can't live his life for him. But I can live my life with GRACE and acceptance, kindness, bravery, and a knowing that I will do all of the things that he didn't get to do past the age of 34 when he died. I won't take my life for granted. I won't allow the bitterness to hold me back and make me cruel. I won't forever hold onto the anger.  My first husband who died by suicide was the kindest man. Funny, sweet, and loved me to the moon and back. We were best friends from me: age 24-almost 36 and him: age 22 to age 34 when he died. We were together for 12 years and so much of my memories of my life are with him. Wonderful, beautiful memories. He was never abusive...physically or emotionally or mentally. He wasn't an alcoholic or into drugs. He didn't have any affairs, never cheated on me, had no secrets he was hiding. He simply lost his beautiful life to suicide because the darkness tricked him into believing he would save his family by doing so. He was a wonderful daddy. Yes, there were some rough times before he died because he was obviously (now I know and didn't know then) battling psychosis and possibly something even darker. But the main theme or our life together was happiness and togetherness and he did everything for me and our children. I remarried in 2019 and my current husband is thoughtful, patient, funny, kind. I don't compare the two. Ever. They are two separate men and I only feel so incredibly thankful that I have had a life with two husbands who loved me and two husbands that still love me as love continues long after death. My children have two Dad's. One in Heaven and one right here on Earth. How incredibly beautiful and then heartbreakingly unfair their early childhood was and now they have been gifted the beauty of having a man step in and love them as if they were his very own. I want my children to one day be all grown up and look back at our life and be able  to look at me and think that their mother was a woman who really dove head first into her healing even when the healing hurt. A mother who protected them at all costs. I want them to know in their bones that I transmuted my pain into LOVE for other humans and taught them how and why to do the same.  I rebuilt our life and mended our hearts from the ground up and laid everything brick by brick with tears in my eyes.   I never gave up and I want them to look at me and see grace, joy, and bravery. I want them to be proud that I am their mom. I want my late husband Ryan to be proud. I have not done everything perfectly but I've done what I had to do to heal, move forward, and I have given my heart to the service of others who have experienced a suicide loss and beyond.  ​ You can get through anything. It's your choice. Every day. Every year. A choice.  ​ Love always, Nik  P.S. The photo below captures a precious moment of Ryan and me with our children during our vacation in Duluth, MN, just a month before his untimely passing. I generally keep many family photos private to honor the privacy of my children and my current husband.​