When love runs deep, so does the sorrow. Intense grief echoes through your entire being—mind, body, heart, emotions, and spirit—testifying to the depth of the love you still carry for the one who died, bearing witness to a bond that will never die. Your undying love quietly shapes your memories, your sorrow, and your healing.
Your grief will be complex and layered. You may feel sadness, confusion, anger, guilt, and longing—all at once. These emotions are not signs of weakness, but sacred echoes of the love you carry.
They will always be in your heart. In the quiet of everyday life, you’ll find yourself missing your loved one in ways you never anticipated. You can miss them everyday for the rest of your life and that's okay.
This was not your fault. Suicide loss is unbearably heavy, and blame need not be part of the burden you carry. Beware of the tyranny of hindsight—let the past be your teacher, not your judge. You loved deeply, gave what you could, and none of it was in vain. The Savior sees your heart, knows your efforts, and holds them all with infinite tenderness.
Suicide grief is like a storm. It’s not a problem to solve—it’s an experience to live. The storm may change you, but it doesn’t define you. You don’t need to be fixed. Over time, you will learn to walk in the rain, to breathe through the thunder, and to find shelter in connection with heaven and others.
You may now be living with trauma. Trauma isn't a flaw, it's a wound—a sign that something deeply painful happened. Stop asking "what's wrong with me?" Instead ask "what happened to me?" There's nothing wrong with you; you don't need to be fixed. You are not a problem to be solved—you are a person to be understood. Healing is aided when you stop diagnosing pain and start listening to it. Let your story be heard.
Secondary losses will emerge. As grief unfolds, secondary losses, some foreseen and others unexpected show up, each one whispers of the future once imagined, now tenderly mourned.
The weight is too heavy to carry alone. Suicide loss is crushing. But you don’t have to carry it with shame or isolation. You don’t have to walk this path alone. Others travel it too—some ahead of you, some beside you. Connection can be a lifeline. Heavenly parents and angels both seen and unseen, are always near. Heavenly Father hears your every question, every cry, and every prayer. The Savior is with you always; He perfectly understands your pain. In time, He can heal your broken heart. And the Holy Spirit can be your constant companion, offering comfort, guidance, and peace.
The path forward will be yours to shape. In the wake of such deep sorrow, you have sacred choices to make: whether to stretch your soul heavenward in faith and reach outward to others with trust and vulnerability. Whether you find meaning in service, quiet reflection, shared stories, or renewed faith—it’s okay to choose healing in your own time and way.
Healing will take time. Though time doesn’t erase every wound, it gently smooths the rough edges and helps you adjust to a new rhythm of life. Turning to God doesn’t erase the ache, but it invites sacred comfort, renewal, and peace that surpasses understanding. Even still, this is a major life disruption in so many area and will likely last longer that you expect.
Hope and joy can be reborn. Even in grief’s deepest shadow, moments of peace, joy, and clarity will begin to emerge. Don’t rush them—but welcome them when they arrive. Grief may feel endless, yet God’s tender mercies still break through. In time, hope and joy will rise again—softly, unexpectedly. Receive them with gratitude, for they are heaven’s reminder that healing is possible.
They are still progressing and transforming. Though their earthly journey has ended, their spirit continues to grow, learn, and nurtured in divine love. God’s plan is expansive and eternal—and they remain a vital part of it.
You are still progressing and transforming. Even now, under the weight of loss, you are growing—learning how to breathe again, how to hope again, how to carry love forward. You will never be the same—but you can let this storm transform you into someone deeper, more compassionate, more whole. This journey is sacred, and heaven walks it with you.