It's been over three months now since Chris died. Off and on I've wanted to write about him, but it's hard to find the right words. But, even if I get the words all wrong I think it's still important to try. I think about him almost every day, but most of the time it's still not real to me that he's gone.

I was at the gym on the day that it had been three months since his death and in the middle of lifting a weight, the thought that Chris isn't here just hit me hard and I almost started crying right there. I don't have the same darkness or fog about it that I did in the first few weeks, but I still find myself thinking about him and feeling sad at odd moments.

I hear stuff all the time that makes me think of him. On NPR, an author was talking about her mother who had died and the "mystery of absence". How can she have been here and now she's not? How could Chris have been here and now he's not? At church, I was reading a visiting teaching message about understanding that you are a child of God and treating your body like a temple and I just started crying. It was a message I've heard literally hundreds of times before and was never moved by. But looking at it through the lens of suicide put a terribly different spin on the words. I listened to an interview with David Foster Wallace (an author who recently killed himself) and thought of Chris and thought of Wallace's family. David and I watched a Woody Allen movie where one of the characters says, "I want to want to live." I want Chris to want to live. But the decision is already made.

What's strange is that I'll think about him in terms of how we could still help him. What could made a difference. It's a hard thing to let go even though it's so pointless.

Sometimes I think about the peace that I felt at the prospect of dying. How grateful I felt for my life. How 28 years felt like a huge gift. And it almost makes me feel a little better, that maybe that was the kind of peace that Chris had come to. Except, I got to live 10 more years. I don't know what Chris would have done with 10 more years, but I don't know how he could regret living them.

I do hope Chris has peace now. I think he must have peace now, but it is at such a terrible cost.