Losing a little sister is an all-consuming kind of pain, and I just want you to know—you are not alone. There are so many of us walking through similar heartbreak, even if it feels isolating.
In April 2024, I attempted to take my own life. I survived, and within hours my mom, my sister, and her husband—who live two hours away—were at my house. That night, we all sat together on my bed. I remember my sister asking me how I could do something like that, and whether I knew suicide was considered an unforgivable sin.
Through tears, I told her what I truly believed: that God forgives all sins. That in those final moments, when someone cries out, “God, I can’t do this anymore,” He knows their heart. I believe He meets them in that pain with understanding and mercy. And I also believe that when it isn’t our time, something intervenes. On August 1, 2024, my little sister went home alone and took her life.
When I got the call, I fell to my knees. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t understand how this could happen—especially after that conversation we had just months before. She was only 34 years old. At her funeral a week later, the room was overflowing. So many people loved her.
Seven days after we buried her, on August 14, I received another devastating call: my 14-year-old daughter had been arrested and charged with first-degree murder. Everything inside of me shattered. My days became filled with grief, anger, and a darkness I can barely put into words. Then, on September 18, I discovered a video in my husband’s email—he had been with another woman. That was the moment I felt completely broken. Hopeless. Alone. Like there was no way out. I attempted to take my life again. I had barricaded myself in a room. I don’t know how long I was unconscious before my husband broke in and called 911. I remember waking up angry—angry that I was still here, angry that it hadn’t worked.But today, it’s March 2026. And I’m still here.I’m not okay. Most days are still incredibly hard.
In April 2024, I attempted to take my own life. I survived, and within hours my mom, my sister, and her husband—who live two hours away—were at my house. That night, we all sat together on my bed. I remember my sister asking me how I could do something like that, and whether I knew suicide was considered an unforgivable sin.
Through tears, I told her what I truly believed: that God forgives all sins. That in those final moments, when someone cries out, “God, I can’t do this anymore,” He knows their heart. I believe He meets them in that pain with understanding and mercy. And I also believe that when it isn’t our time, something intervenes. On August 1, 2024, my little sister went home alone and took her life.
When I got the call, I fell to my knees. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t understand how this could happen—especially after that conversation we had just months before. She was only 34 years old. At her funeral a week later, the room was overflowing. So many people loved her.
Seven days after we buried her, on August 14, I received another devastating call: my 14-year-old daughter had been arrested and charged with first-degree murder. Everything inside of me shattered. My days became filled with grief, anger, and a darkness I can barely put into words. Then, on September 18, I discovered a video in my husband’s email—he had been with another woman. That was the moment I felt completely broken. Hopeless. Alone. Like there was no way out. I attempted to take my life again. I had barricaded myself in a room. I don’t know how long I was unconscious before my husband broke in and called 911. I remember waking up angry—angry that I was still here, angry that it hadn’t worked.But today, it’s March 2026. And I’m still here.I’m not okay. Most days are still incredibly hard.
