His Plaque on the Bridge

How are you supposed to process the grief of losing someone you never met?

Can I even say that I lost my Uncle Todd?

One thing I can say for certain is that not having him in my life, whether I ever met him or not, leaves me longing for a relationship I’ll never quite have.

In some ways, though, I feel like I do have a connection with Todd. Whether it’s stories from my Dad + Mom, or other family members, about the type of man Todd was, what he enjoyed, or the connection they had with him; I can feel him in those moments.

Another aspect of my life that helps me feel connected to Todd is the advocation for mental health awareness. Specifically, raising awareness, sometimes funds, for suicide prevention.

There aren’t many things currently in my life that bring both happiness + sadness quite like honoring someone that I would give anything just to have in my life.

There are few words, however, that tend to hover when I think of Todd:

• Pain
• Grief
• Confusion
• Inspiration
• Empathy

Of course, that list could go on and on, but those words seem to be the ones that stay connected as the years pass along.

Pain

The pain of not having Todd in my life seems to spike when “projects” come to completion.

I put projects in quotations simply because I couldn’t find a better word for the work. Most recently, it was raising money for suicide prevention + the plaque you see in the picture above. It was riding 54 kilometers (roughly 33.5 miles) to honor Todd’s legacy (and his 54th birthday — happy belated Uncle Todd). I cried tears of both joy + sorrow when I finished that ride for Todd. And I cried after I went to visit Todd’s plaque on the bridge.

That pain will probably never go away. Todd will never be here. Yet, having his legacy live on and stories about him still being told, brings me hope that the pain of not having him can be eased by the fact that he will never be forgotten.

Grief

The grief I feel, similarly to the pain, comes in waves. It doesn’t feel like “normal grief”. Even though, as I’m typing that last line, I’m not sure there is such a thing as “normal grief”.

I fully recognize we all grieve in different ways, but I’m not sure how to grieve someone I never met. Am I allowed to grieve? That’s a constant intrusive thought I fight with.

I just have to continue to tell myself that I can grieve in anyway I want and that’s the same advice that I would gladly give anyone that asked.

Confusion

As you can imagine, or maybe you’ve even felt it personally (sadly), suicide is a very confusing death to process.

I will never feel what my Uncle Todd felt. I will never know his pain. To be honest, I don’t try to. I don’t feel like that’s my place. Or, anyone else’s for that matter.

I get confused often when I think about Todd’s passing. I just wish I could understand it better. But, again, the reality is that I never will.

I think I’m okay with that. Each day that passes I just try to work on taking my confusion and using it to better educate myself, check in on the people I love, and be a set of ears for people to share their hurt to.

Inspiration

For as much pain + grief + confusion that comes with the healing process, there is also a lot of moments where I feel nothing but inspiration.

Todd’s passing, and losing him to suicide, has created moments of advocating for people going through similar battles with mental health.

It inspired the creation of the Todd Handel Memorial Fund that’s been going strong since 2018 and is closing in on surpassing $4,500 raised in Todd’s Honor to support suicide prevention efforts.

Inspiration is one of the foundational emotions that keeps me feeling like what I’m doing to honor Todd & the way I go about processing it is perfectly okay.

Empathy

This emotion feels closely connected to confusion + inspiration.

I may never understand how my Uncle Todd felt, but I can try to understand people going through similar battles.

When suicide gets talks about, it often lacks a lot of empathy from some people. There are often a lot of misconceptions, harsh judgements, and unfair assumptions.

I say that we lead with empathy when talking about these human beings that aren’t here anymore.

To think that not being on this Earth anymore is the best option in some people’s hearts, is a pain I would never wish on anyone. The more empathy we can have for each other, the better off we will be.

My Uncle, Todd Handel, may not be here anymore, but I feel grateful to still feel his legacy living on in my life and the lives of others who love him.

And I’m really hoping he loves his view on that bridge.