When you lose a loved one, it feels like the world should stop in its tracks. Lauren Bodenlos tells us about their experience grieving a tragic loss.
In May of 2023 I drove with my mom from San Francisco to my uncle’s home in Las Vegas. When we arrived, we began to unpack his life: decades old backpacking supplies, milk crates packed with Pez dispensers and collectible pins, and framed photos of his grandparents.
In his bedroom, I found his hand written will, a receipt that showed the purchase of a handgun and bullets, and his suicide, note all dated 5/5/2023. I covered his blood-stained sheets and repositioned his childhood stuffed animal before reading my mom his letters aloud.
My uncle, Stu, was a private person. He worked as a mail courier. He lived alone. He planted dozens of cacti in his small backyard. He drove an old, red, pickup truck. He was kind.
He explained in his letter that he hated himself and wholeheartedly believed he was a bad person. Reading off the page I kept getting this urge to stop him and tell him he was wrong. When he apologized to my family for being a horrible son, brother and uncle, my mom and I both interrupted “no.” I regretted not calling him on his birthday in April. My mom thought through every what if and apologized to him out loud. “It’s not your fault” I said, half for her and half for me. As I continued reading, we let phrases like “the world is a better place without me” sit in the air.
I hugged my mom.