There's been a hole in my heart since my father committed suicide when I was only 9 years old. A lifetime of wondering how he could leave my brother & me. Knowing I would never get to have my Daddy walk me down the isle or that I would never have that special father daughter dance every girl dreams of. Wishing he could be here to watch his grandchildren grow. Knowing it was his choice to leave is what hurt the most. I always thought that would be the most painful thing I'd ever go through in life. I was so wrong!! 29 years and 10 months later, a day before my father's birthday & 3 days before Christmas the love of my life, my best friend also committed suicide. December 21 2015 was the worst day of my life. The day I found my Mike dead in our bed. I remember my screams, the way he looked and how his body and skin felt, those images I just can't forget no matter how hard I try. But the rest of that day is like blur. At some point our 17 year old son (Mike's step son) came home to find me crying on the couch while police and forensics walked through our home and I had to tell him "dad is gone". I don't remember seeing him come in But I remember him holding me and hearing his cries. The police kept us there all day until the corner got there, which I later found out was about 8 hours. For 8 hours we had to sit with police while Mike's dead body was upstairs. I can't emagin what that must have been like for our son. The city we lived in at the time was where Mike's family all lived. My home town, my family and friends were far from where we lived, so we had no one to help us cope for the first few days til my mom and cousin were able to come be with us on Christmas Eve. What made things worse was the phone call I got from my sister in law (Mike's brothers girlfriend) the night Mike died. Hearing her tell me that the family was pretty upset that I didn't call them myself to tell them he was dead when I found him earlier that day. And telling me that It's not a good idea that I show my face because the family is hurting and needs some time. Over and over I said how sorry I was and she told me flat out that the family is really angry at me and in particular Mike's brother who doesn't want me and my children around his family at all, that I'm the reason his brother took his own life. So for the next few days my 11 & 17 year old sons and me were all alone. My mom and cousin came up to be with us on Christmas Eve but were only able to stay two days until our 19 year old daughter (Mike's step daughter) was able to come up on Boxing Day. The night before my mom and cousin left I got a text from my sister in law (Mike's oldest sister) saying the family wanted to come by our place to pick up Mike's belongings because they were made aware that my children and I would be leaving the city to move back home after Mike's service. I agreed to go pack his things as soon as the the autopsy was completed and police gave me back the keys with permission to return back into our home. That night I got the call to pick up the keys, I immediately Went back to our home in hopes that I'd find a note from Mike but there wasn't one to be found. My children stayed at the hotel with my mom and cousin. On the 27th I agreed to meet Mike's sister at our apartment so that they could pick up his belingings. I made sure to keep a few small sentimental items for our children, our grandson and myself. Things like his favourite shirts, some jewelry and small things. I kept one big item and that was 1 of 7 guitars. I kept the newest one that Mike purchased when we first started dating, it meant a lot to me and the kids because he only ever played it for us. Anyway all 3 of Mike's sisters came with a moving truck to pick up his things. 2 of them were cold and unkind to me. The oldest one asked me if I'm sure that was everything that belonged to Mike and never once asked if I wanted to keep anything or at least reassured me that it would be okay if I wanted to. As they were getting ready to leave she said she'd text me the address of the funeral home where his service would be and times. To make an already long story short, the night before the service, my children were concerned about my mental health because I layed in bed for hours staring at the ceiling. They called family who told them to call ambulance. I was taken to hospital and spoke with a dr who released me a couple hours later. As I was leaving the hospital my phone rang, it was the police who were informing me that my apartment was broken into, my door kicked in. So they picked me up drove me home to find our home ransacked and Mike's guitar gone. I realized on the way I had a few texts from his sister who was demanding that I give them Mike's guitar, telling me it was very important to them to have for the funeral even tho I have them all 6 the guitars. I told police I know who did it, they spoke to the brother who admitted he did it. Said I was being difficult with the family and that he'd fix damages after funeral. Because of this on top of everything else I couldn't bring myself to take my children to the service so that we could say goodbye. It was clear that we were not wanted and I did not want to make matters worse. Instead the kids and I went to his favourite pub and had our own lil memorial but it wasn't the same. The next day my friend came to pick us up. We left everything behind, furniture, cloths, everything but our memories. I asked if the kids and I could have a small amount of his ashes to wear in lockets. They said they'd have to discuss it but I've never spoken to them since. They had no clue how much we loved each other, they were never really a part of Mike's life. I know its not right to hate others but I truly hate that family. I'm still so lost and in pain. I lost myself and I don't know if I'll ever find my way back. How am I ever going to accept this???