I made myself a deal when I started this blog. I promised myself that I wouldn’t force it and that I would only write when and if I felt inspired to do so. I don’t want to become one of those bloggers that publishes every single day of the week just to tell you what I had for breakfast and how it made me feel when I ate it.

I started this blog a few months after Jamie left us. I wanted to share our story to hopefully touch the life of somebody out there on the same grief filled journey as ourselves, but I mostly started it as a means of survival.

Hello Friends. I realized that even though I have overshared every little detail of our lives since Jamie left us, I haven’t really talked about our first holiday season without him yet. So, I thought I would hop on the blog tonight and talk about that just a little bit. I'll try to keep this one short and sweet.

It has been nearly 9 months since Jamie chose to leave us. They say time heals, but I wouldn’t say I am exactly finding that to be true. In fact, most days I would argue that it is quite the opposite. Sure. I am learning to live with his absence.

Religion. It is one of the most uncomfortable topics for many people to talk about unless you are somebody that is incredibly rooted in your faith. As far as “taboo” topics go it’s right up there with mental health and suicide.

It is completely impossible to explain Jamie's 39 years, 2 months, and 19 days. He was a complete tool from day one! He was born in a blizzard. It wasn't just any blizzard either. It is in the record books; the blizzard of 1979. He didn't sleep for his first two years.

It is 2am and there is the rumble of thunder in the west. The closer the thunder gets the louder it gets. There is lightening and it lights the sky a little more with each strike. The storm gets closer and closer until finally it is right on top of our little town.

I realize that when I publish something new on the blog I usually have a “topic” or something specific that I want to talk about. Not tonight. Tonight I am just here to ramble. I’ve honestly had the worst day yet since that dreadful day in April.

Usually when I sit down to write I don’t have to think too much about it. It just kind of comes right out of my heart, through my fingertips, and onto my computer screen. Most of what I write is purely driven by emotion (which I seem to have a lot of these days) so it just comes easily to me. That hasn’t been the case this time.

Hi Friends. Welcome back to my blog! I know. I have been quiet. I needed a minute to breathe and regroup. Thank you to so many of you that reached out to me during the past few weeks of quiet time to check on me. Your continued support and empathy continue to touch my heart and it means more to me than you will ever, ever know!

Sometimes when I sit down to write I don’t even know where to start. I am trying my best to be as honest and as forthright as I can about how it is that alcoholism and mental illness landed us here. While some things are simply too personal and too painful to write about, I know that in order to stay true to my intentions of this blog, I have to be willing to share at least some of the very raw, very real details and, believe me, it is incredibly hard to do. So, please bear with me this week as I share a little bit more of Jamie’s last months with us.

The last few weeks I have talked about alcoholism, mental illness, and the devastation that suicide has brought to my life in the form of grief. What I haven’t talked much about is the fact that the last 7 months of Jamie’s life was absolute hell on earth.

Suicide. Suicide. Suicide It doesn’t matter how many times you repeat it, it never gets easier to say. The word itself is uncomfortable. I get it. It’s a hard topic to talk about, much less live with. The stigma attached to suicide brings with it a lot of shame and isolation for those left behind. Believe me, at this point, it would be incredibly easy to bury myself in my misery and keep it all locked up inside of me. But, what good would that do? It would just lead me down the same dark path of depression that my brother found himself in and it certainly wouldn’t help me in my mission to serve others.

Hi Everyone - Welcome back! This week I am proud to share with you my big brother, Chad. I am a little bit of a control freak, so I did tweak his grammar and punctuation a wee little bit. I couldn't help myself! I did not, however, tweak the profanity. We write like we feel at this point in our lives. So, you will just have to excuse the f-bombs. Chad, thank you for supporting and taking part in my blog. I love you! Turning it over... Take it away big brother.

Before I dive into this post, I want to say that it is a scary thing to share my heart with you and I was terrified to hit publish on my first blog entry. However, my inboxes have been overflowing as so many of you have shared your own heart wrenching stories and personal struggles with me. Your response to my writing about these sensitive topics was all the validation I needed to know that this is the right thing to do. Thank you all for the overwhelming amount of love and support you have shown me in the last week.

Hello friends. Welcome to my blog. I want to start by saying thank you for taking time out of your lives to read this. I went back and forth on whether or not to even share what I write for some time. I am not writing to seek additional sympathy or to come across as pretentious. I know that I am not an expert on mental illness, alcoholism, or suicide. I am just a sister that is grieving the loss of her brother and using my love for writing as a means to heal. I only hope that I can write and share my heart with you in a way that honors my brother.