A compilation of some of the letters I’ve written to my father since his suicide on April 20, 2015.

August 6, 2015
Today I am knee deep in a mad, angry, pissed off state of grief. No eloquent reflections to write–it would just be filled with expletives and written in all caps– like screaming, ranting & yelling at the top of my lungs–but on paper, which just won’t offer the same release as doing it for real. But doing it for real might just scare the shit out of my neighbors–so I don’t really know what the hell to do with it–it’s just simmering and I’m trying not to let it boil over–so Dad-that’s where you, me & the endless reverberations of your suicide, stand today! Oh, by the way, nightmarish dreams for me-that’s one thing. For my children, your grandchildren-well, that’s a whole other f*cking story. I mean–are you kidding me? I have nothing more to say today! At least nothing rational anyway. But then again, I’m writing you letters on Facebook because I can’t say any of this to you. Because you left. You f*cking left–so how rational am I to begin with?! So, yeah-mad! That’s all I’ve got today–because you left a mess behind here Dad. And you don’t have to do anything to help clean it up… and some days, that is so damn wrong & unfair!
Your daughter,

July 31, 2015
Dear Dad,
So, I talked with a DJ this morning, as we try to juggle around and find another new date for Noa’s Bat Mitzvah (because to find a block of hotel rooms on the weekend of CU graduation was not successful)
So, anyway I spoke to this lovely DJ today and was feeling pretty good that we found somebody who had an opening for a potential new date, had great recommendations and was reasonably priced. Off I went to Whole Foods feeling a bit of relief and pretty good. Then I started thinking about how much you LOVED to dance. And I thought about dancing with you at Yael and Leora’s B’not Mitzvah. Then I thought about that beautiful smiling picture of us out on the dance floor-the one I now use on my fundraising page for the Suicide Prevention Walk. Then I thought about not having you at Noa’s Bat Mitzvah, not dancing with you and never seeing that smile again–and then, I cried…. And now, I’m sad–
It’s not fair dad–all of it. You should be there with us to celebrate–you should be here. You were supposed to get better. You were supposed to come out of the darkness and you would have once again danced & experienced joy.
But you didn’t-
And that makes me weep–
Because I truly believed you’d come through this bout of depression. Just as you had done before.
We should’ve danced again dad.
I miss you.
I love you.
Your Loving Daughter,
P.S. It would’ve gotten better Dad. If only you had been able to hold on and fight longer. I truly believe that with all of my heart.

July 29, 2015
Dear Dad,
I feel like I’m once again finding joy in cooking/baking. Since your suicide I either didn’t cook, or simply went through the motions of cooking, with no love or passion. I just cooked. But slowly I’m once again finding pleasure in the process. Making healthy foods for family and friends, and testing the limits of altitude and an electric oven. They tell me that is a sign that there is some healing. I hope so. Because most days I feel like a shell of my former self. Reigniting my passion for food, makes me feel a little more alive… a little more like the me I once was. The me I was before…
Your daughter…
Who misses you so much…