The old saying "It gets better with time"....is an understatement. It should say, "It doesn't get better with time, the heartache gets different.". And that's only because it get's tired of the constant pain. The constant guilt, the constant wondering what would they be doing today? I lost 2 children to suicide, and one from a drug overdose.......I think I am going crazy sometimes. Then I lost my husband, my soul companion to a car accident. I miss them all in different ways, but it all comes back to the same thing....I hate what has happened to me...to my family. It started in 1975 when my grandpa died my suicide....right after I told him I was pregnant with his great grandchild....I named my son after him...and had 4 more kids. Now, my oldest that I named after my grandpa also died by suicide. I still cried over my grandpa's suicide! but before my oldest did that, his little sister, my baby.....died by suicide. All 3, my grandpa, my son, and my daughter, hung themselves...... : ( And the strangest part is the fact that none of the kids knew about my grandpa, their great grandpa death...how it happened. It was a dark family secret, none of talked about it after the funeral. Hush....we don't talk about that. I told my son only that he was named after my grandpa because he had asked for a 9 lb baby boy and wanted the family cleveage in his chin....my son, had all 3.... 9 lbs. boy, cleveage in his chin..so he got his great grandpa's name also......only to lose him to sucide also 30 yrs. later. And I don't know why any of them chose to die that way....only guess's.......mere guess's. I feel like I am constantly crying over spilled milk. I can't change any of it. No one thing.....they left me that legacy. Too many tears, too many regrets.........RIP my dear family.