Reclaiming Purpose and Light After My Husband's Suicide

By Alison

“You don’t heal from the loss of a loved one because time passes, you heal because of what you do with that time.”

- Carol Crandell

The Hardest Battle I Lost

One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to come to terms with was that I lost. I lost the battle to save David. I lost the fight for our family. I lost what I believed I was good at—finding purpose, creating alternate solutions, being the positive light someone needed in their darkest moments. Realizing that I wasn’t able to save him was a hard pill to swallow. And anyone who knew me in my career, I was a leader, a mentor, a role model and I didn’t like to lose.

Throughout my career in retail management, I thrived. I led, coached, mentored, and built strong teams driving company objectives while managing a 16-million-dollar store. I turned underperforming stores into top performers. I developed leaders, strategized through challenges, and inspired others to push forward by facilitating workshops or leading training sessions within our district amongst managers and coordinators. I was known for finding solutions, for being resilient, for bringing light into difficult spaces.

But when it came to my husband—I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t fix it. And I’ve never felt so defeated. Maybe that’s why I decided to step back from my career. Because I lost the biggest battle of my life, and it shook my very foundation. How could I lead, continue to inspire others to achieve their dreams when my dreams, my life have been completely altered. I felt like a failure.

Teaching Life Lessons: My Most Rewarding Work Memories

Some of my favorite memories from work have always involved teaching others. Whether it was helping someone understand how to show up on time, manage a project, or deal with a difficult customer, I found true joy in those moments. My passion wasn't just about getting the job done—it was about helping others learn something meaningful about life, a new passion, a new dream, or something they didn’t realize about themselves.

Over the years, I taught students how to take ownership of their responsibilities, how to manage their time (especially during times of store recovery through the holiday rush), how to deliver great customer service, and how to work effectively with others. Some of those lessons were hard for students to grasp in the moment, and they didn’t always hide their frustration. But the most rewarding part was when those same students returned after their first year of college and thanked me. Hearing, “You taught me something that helped me in real life,” made everything worthwhile.

Throughout my career, I had the privilege of working with people from all walks of life—different nationalities, backgrounds, and experiences. I always tried to find a way to connect, to speak in a way that resonated with them. My guiding belief was simple: You have the power to shape your own life and turn your dreams into reality. And I loved helping others discover that truth for themselves. I wanted them to believe and to know they can do a lot more with their life than they ever thought or were even told – I was their cheerleader.

After stepping back from my career to focus on my family, I still wanted to stay connected to that passion for teaching. Becoming a substitute teacher was the perfect path—it allowed me to continue sharing knowledge, mentoring students, and staying involved in education, while also being available for my children’s needs: doctor’s appointments, school events, and everything in between.

In every chapter of my career, one thing remained the same: the belief that teaching isn’t just about the subject—it’s about the life lessons we pass along. And to me, that has always been the greatest reward.

Rediscovering My Purpose

When I created this blog, my hope was to continue fulfill my soul purpose. To inspire again. To give others hope, because I was finally beginning to feel the light again myself. Over the years, I’ve spoken with many people about my husband’s death by suicide. I usually bring it up first—partly because I want to talk about it, and partly because I know most people won’t and they need to.

There’s still such a strong stigma around suicide. Many people don’t know what to say. Some carry resentment. Others prefer to pretend it didn’t happen at all. And many fear being associated with mental illness, as if it defines a life rather than being one chapter of it.

Yes, they will always be missed. But the value they brought to your life—the love, the memories, the lessons—will forever remain. One thing I’ve learned over the years is that those we've lost wouldn’t want us to stop living. They wouldn’t want our days filled with constant grief or weighed down by endless “what ifs.”

But as humans, life happens. There are ups and downs. And how we respond to those moments—how we choose to speak about them—can not only help others but can help us heal, too.

Sharing Stories Heal

I remember the first conversation I had about David’s suicide. It was about three months after he passed. I went to speak with a neighbor about connecting a new fence to theirs for my Siberian Huskies. It was evening. I’d had a couple of drinks, which, in hindsight, probably helped me open up in a way I wouldn’t have otherwise.

They invited me into their home and showed me around. One guest room was filled with pictures of a young man. I assumed it was their son. You could feel it—a room full of memories of a life taken far too soon. When they told me he had passed away young, I offered my condolences. Then I told them about David—how he had died by suicide at 37.

In that moment, something shifted. The conversation opened up. The mother looked relieved—relieved to speak with someone who understood what that loss feels like. Someone who didn’t flinch at the word “suicide.” Someone who didn’t look away.

She was grateful to be able to speak about her son—his joy, his spirit, his love for life and family. It reminded me of how I want people to remember David—not for how he died, but for how he lived. Adventurous. Loving. Full of life. Full of heart.