I haven't wrote on here in a long time. It's been 2.5 years since my brother's suicide and even after so much time passing it still feels unreal. I have graduated college without the presence of my brother and had a daughter without Uncle Matt here. My boyfriend has a friend named Matt and it seriously killed me to call him Uncle Matt to my daughter. It kind of slipped out of my mouth and hurt so bad after I had said it. I still miss my brother everyday and wonder where he would have been today. I can also look at my own life and wonder where I'd be today if he hadn't of committed suicide. I graduated nursing school a year late, but I wouldn't have met my boyfriend and had my wonderful daughter. And the house I live in today I bought with his life insurance money since I couldn't live in the house he killed himself in.
Sometimes I look at my daughter and wonder if she'll ever have the same hardships or think of doing the same thing. I feel so sorry for her sometimes because she's been brought into an unforgiving and cruel world. Life is hard and I want to be able to make it easy for her. At the same time I don't know how I'll be able to achieve that when I'm on antidepressants and struggle a lot of days myself. I be the best mom I can at the moment, but I know I can do better if I could fix myself. I still don't know what I'm going to tell her of why she doesn't have any aunts or uncles or cousins. Or even if I'm going to tell her who Uncle Matt that she never met is.
Has anyone been through this dilemma of telling your children who a family member is they never got to meet? And do you tell them the truth of their death?