CW: suicide loss, grief For a long time after my dad died, I was a detective. I replayed conversations. I analyzed text messages. I interrogated my own memories like a witness who couldn't keep her story straight. What did he say that Tuesday? Did his voice sound different? Was that comment a clue I missed? I wasn't just grieving. I was investigating. I thought if I could just figure out why, something would click into place. The chaos would organize itself into a narrative t

It was around this time last year when I lost a close friend. The pain of that loss is still pretty fresh, a wound that hasn't fully...