This is what Graham's sister posted on Instagram today:
On January 24, 1989 I became a big sister. On May 22, 2012 my only brother was ripped away from me. But just because Graham died does not mean I am no longer his sister, or that I am an only child. People think talking to a bereaved family member about their loved one is too painful. This is not the case; in fact, we want the opposite. We want you to speak their names, share your memories, and let us know they will never be forgotten. More damage is done with silence. Thank you to all who let us know that you love and remember Graham.
Mental-health practitioners whose clients kill themselves can face stigma from their colleagues, lawsuits, and a toll on their own psyches—making them less likely to take on suicidal patients who need their help.
When you see me, you probably see what you would consider to be a strong person. But most of the time, you don't really see me. You see me through a veil that I wear that lets you see a version of me that I think you want to see.
I, the undersigned, support the need for a Parental Bereavement Leave Act as a way of extending coverage and existing benefits allowed by FMLA to employees that have experienced the death of a child.
It is my strong opinion that the death of a child is one of the worst experiences that anyone can endure. I find it unacceptable that the death of a child is not included as a protected reason to qualify for the benefits that are set forth in the Family Medical Leave Act of 1993.
I try to recall what I was like before my daughter Peyton died of cancer. I can barely remember, even though those memories should still be fairly fresh—her death came mere months before my 29th birthday.
...this blog is about... the transformational power of grief, and the resulting consequence of gratitude for all of the little things that constitute my life today. I dedicate this blog to Matthew with love and appreciation for the 21 years we had him in our lives. His memory is a blessing to all of us.