It’s hard for me to read my previous post here. I really want to delete it, forget it before anyone sees how naive I was, how immature.
On May 19, 2015, my 23-year-old daughter, Faerin Sinéad Cassidy, died. While her abusive boyfriend was on the scene and the only witness, the police are likely to chalk it up to suicide and let him go and destroy some other family.
It’s not the substance of my earlier rant that embarrasses me, it’s the lack of depth. While I considered the rights of the suicidal person, I neglected to consider the impact on family and friends who are caught by surprise when a loved one makes the decision to kill themselves in secret.
They don’t end their pain, they merely pass it on to us.
And it sucks. It sucks a lot.
But I’m surviving. With the help of my family and friends, I am thriving. My daughter’s death shocked me back to life and I’m going to live it.