At first, you dance around the elephant, pretending it’s not there. When you finally acknowledge the elephant’s presence, however, it doesn’t disappear. It’s still sitting there, as big as ever. And you’re still dancing around it, still trying to avoid getting trampled.

Letting go of denial—acknowledging that the elephant is there—is only the first step. After that comes detachment—figuring out how to stop caring so much about the darn elephant. A lot of my problems come from the unending and unsuccessful attempts to make it go away. I’m trying to take the focus off the elephant, and put it on myself and my own needs. When I stop focusing on the elephant, it gets smaller. It will never go away and I know that. But the more I focus on it, the more dominating and damaging it becomes.

In many ways, the elephant’s trunk is more like a vacuum, ready to suck the life out of you if you can’t draw on your own inner strength. For me, right now, I’m trying to protect myself from the elephant in the room. Eventually, I’m hoping that it will shrink into a corner, no longer the center of my attention.

I was driving to Pet’s Mart with Hooper and was thinking today’s my birthday, Mark’s gone, my mom and dad are gone. I want so bad to speak to Mark today, to be a silly brother and sister just one more day. I go to grief counseling but it’s not what I need because we don't talk about suicide. I need to go back to the SOS group, they understand, they’ve been there but it's hard work.

I don’t know if I wrote this or I found it on the net but it’s tucked away in my poetry folder. It speaks volumes to me.

Please don't ask me if I'm over it yet.
I'll never get over it.
Please don't tell me he's in a better place.
He's not here with me.
Please don't say he isn't suffering any more.
I haven't come to terms of why he had to suffer at all.
Please don't tell me how you feel
Unless you've lost someone to suicide.
Please don't ask me if I feel better.
Bereavement isn't a condition that clears up.
Please don't tell me at least you had him for so many years.
What year would you like your brother to die?
Please don't tell me God never gives us more than we can bear.
Please just say you're sorry.
Please just say you remember my brother if you do.
Please mention my brother's name.
Please be patient with me when I am sad.
Please just let me cry.