Follow-up

So, wow. 

Just…wow. 

I cannot even begin to put into words what your responses have meant to me, Blog Fans. (And not being able to put something into words is sort of a detriment to an aspiring writer, so I’m going to have to work on that.) Allow me to collect my brain and thoughts and such for a moment.

Okay, here goes.

It has been five years since we lost Katie, and by and large, we’ve very much kept to ourselves about it all. A handful of people in my inner circle had some vague idea about what happened, but it just wasn’t something I was very open about. Can you blame me? Not exactly an easy thing to slip into conversation, you know? 

“Hey Jen! Good to see you! This restaurant is so fun and the food looks yummy!”

“You know my sister killed herself, right?”

Yeah, not good. This kind of talk would probably cut down quite a bit on the number of lunch dates I get. And even if I had managed to say this to some poor, unsuspecting friend of mine, I probably would have followed it up quickly with a tremendous amount of embarrassing sobbing, so I opted to keep my mouth shut. I felt like I was doing just fine. I didn’t need help. No counseling or long talks or support groups. Sweep it under the rug and call it a day.

Except that grief doesn’t work that way. It’s a beast with a mind all its own, people. 

So five years, blog fans. Five whole years of insomnia, sudden (often untimely) outbursts of shoulder-shaking sobbing, and really horrific nightmares. Five years of guilt, regrets, and countless rounds of “what if?” Five years of loneliness and isolation and embarrassment.

Then I sat down one day and wrote a short piece about her and posted it for a few folks to read. And they posted it for a few folks to read. And it spread like wildfire, my friends. Over the course of one weekend, THOUSANDS of people read Katie’s story. Roughly 200 of those have chosen to reach out to me in emails, Facebook messages, blog comments, and message board responses. 

I sat there refreshing my computer, over and over and over again, jaw open, tears streaming. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Every time I hit that little button my screen re-loaded, and a few more people had read about her. A few more people took time out of their day to read and comment and absorb. A few more people chose to re-post the link, sharing Katie with more, and more, and more folks.

Everything that I had hoped for with this blog post came to fruition. I was reaching people. I was sharing Katie, and making sure people didn’t forget her. I am even told, according to an anonymous comment I received, that I prevented one family from having to go through what we went through in losing Katie (more on that in my next post, Blog Readers.) People were clicking and reading and sharing and preventing. Money was donated in her name. Friends reached out to those in need. 

Above all else, people PROMISED. They commented, emailed, texted, all to tell me that they PROMISE. 

And a weight has been lifted, friends. I have smiled. I have slept (!!!). I feel…peaceful. I haven’t felt peace in five years. I felt it because of you. I felt a bit of my burden removed, a small amount of guilt assuaged, a sense of calm wash over me, and it was all because you chose to read. And share. And promise.

To all who re-posted the link, there is no word I can think of that could appropriately thank you to the depths and magnitude that I would like to thank you. You changed lives, people. Maybe even saved a few. (We can only hope, right?)

The same goes for those of you who commented or contacted me in some way. You told me that I wasn’t wrong to put Katie out there. You told me that her story needed to be told. You told me that people who are suffering tremendously from mental illness or from the loss of a loved one don’t deserve to be shut out and shrugged off. You told me that I wasn’t alone after all.

You told me that even after five years of absence, Katie still has a voice. She still has purpose. She mattered to me and now she matters to you.

I have so much more to say about all this, and so much more to share about my experiences the last few days, but for now my friends, I will sleep. And I will sleep well, because of you. Because you each carry a small piece of her with you now, and that means I don’t have to carry her all alone.

From the bottom of my heart, and with everything I have in me…

Thank you.

**blog look a little different? Aunt Amy requested a brighter background, and what Aunt Amy wants, Aunt Amy gets!**