People tell me that I am brave. I’m really not. They tell me that it takes courage to share my story, my loss with others. I don’t know. For me, there is no other way to wear this new aspect of self that is forever ingrained in me. I am a survivor of suicide loss. I didn’t ask for any of this and in truth, I would go back in an instant to the me that I was before: before my father’s suicide, before I became a survivor, before life as I knew it was forever altered. But I can’t.