Whoever you are, you have my love and compassion.

I thought I had it under control.

I made it through the slow crawl of traffic, past the ten to twelve police cars, past the ambulance, past the yellow crime scene tape.

I made it past and over the entire bridge.

Even when Mike started to get teary- eyed, I sat stoically.

I pushed it out of my head.

I wasn't going to give in to it. I could handle it.

I propped up my emotions with extra strength, steel coated reinforcement.

I made it through town.

I made it all the way home and managed to enjoy my daughter opening her brand new guitar. I smiled at her excitement.

I held it together for the better part of an hour.

And then...

it hit me like a wave that's coming at you, a tsnuami sized wave. I put out my hands and I was insignifcant in it's path. I couldn't hold it back.

I sobbed. I mourned. My grief was as raw as it was a year ago.

---

Someone is going to get that call tonight. The one I took one May evening. The one that altered my life. The one that changed me forever.

They're going to become a part of an exclusive and unwanted club. One you pray to never become a member of. One you think you will never claim a seat in.

They are going to forever feel a stab of pain anytime someone says something like, "I'm going to go slit my wrists/hang myself/jump from a bridge if my coworker doesn't stop humming" or any other casual phrase of that nature.

They are are going to spend endless nights up, crying in the solitude of a bathroom, bedroom, or a car -- wondering what went wrong -- wondering, why couldn't she have called me. Why couldn't she have held on? Why didn't I save her?

Someone out there is going to spend months feeling guilt over things they didn't do, hugs they never gave, kind words they never said or mean words they did and worse, that last missed opportunity to tell the one you loved just how much they meant, how needed they were, how loved.

Someone out there, tonight, will forever miss the person who jumped off the bridge because they couldn't hold on. Someone out there tonight -- will never be the same for it.

Just like me.

I miss my sister.

Just like me, they will never be the same because she or he ended their life.

So, tonight, I say a prayer for that family. Tonight, I send all of my love to them as they start this nightmarish journey to understanding and acceptance.

I don't know you, but you're in my heart.

---

I love you, Debra Ann.