My husband took his own life. He had demons no one could truly understand. He made mistakes in the end that he couldn’t forgive himself for, but I forgave him.
Those demons and those mistakes don’t define who he was as a person.
What defines him is how he treated waitresses/waiters.
What defines him is how he chased down a truck/trailer with a shaky tire and helped him fix it so he wouldn’t lose control or get in an accident.
What defines him is how he worried about my safety.
What defines him is how he made sure I ate and drank when I was too dark to do it myself.
What defines him is how he treated homeless people.
What defines him is how he confronted our neighbor for animal abuse.
What defines him is how he saw beauty in the world that was constantly shitting on him.
What defines him is all the people who have told me stories of how he listened to them no matter the time of day or night.
I will not tolerate any other definition of him.
I choose to focus on the good because that’s what he deserves. I will continue to share the beautiful memories, the funny stories, because that’s what he deserves.
Dustin always wanted the full story shared, he hated one-sided reporting. So I’m acknowledging both sides, but I will not allow the negative to be the center point of my memories. We had a beautiful marriage 98% of the time. That’s the focal point.
I’m not the only one grieving his loss. We are all handling it the best ways we can. Kindness goes a long way. 💜
Trauma Bedtime Stories 
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