Stuck, I've been where you are. About ten years ago, my mother was murdered by my father. Even though I was grown and gone when it happened, it left me reeling and struggling for years. I'm not sure I'll ever be "over it", although I've learned to live with it.

It changed the way I think about people. I'm an only child, and the rest of my family basically disowned me. Even most of my dearest friends couldn't get away fast enough. A few stood by me, but after an initial bit of sympathy, they moved on too. It left me very cynical about human nature - not just because of my father's actions but because hardly anyone reached out to me, when I needed help so desperately. My greatest challenge over the last ten years has been to see the good in people again - which I have, although I'm still wary. For a while, I had to make a pointed effort to look on the bright side and not to automatically assume the worst in people, but over time, it became easier. I used to be a carefree person too, and I'll never be that again - but the darkness has lifted. Don't expect it to go away overnight, but it does get better.

Have a memorial service for your parents. It doesn't have to be formal. Do something, just for yourself, to remember them. It will help. I didn't think it would - the memorial service for my mother wasn't held until years later, because her body was never found, and I thought it was a waste of time. But it helped. For years, I dreamed about her often, and after the memorial service, the dreams gradually went away, although I still have one every now and then. You may still be angry with them - I still have angry feelings for my mother sometimes, and wish she'd done things differently - but there was something powerful about formally saying goodbye. I still keep little things of hers around the house, and those are oddly comforting too.

As far as the practical side of things - I don't often tell people the circumstances of my mother's death. Only a few people who are very close to me know about it. It may help you to be open about your parents' suicides, but a lot of people don't react well. Don't feel that you have to be nakedly honest with every person you meet - I did that at first and it didn't help. Everyone had an opinion and felt compelled to share it, whether it was hurtful to me or not. It just made me more isolated and cynical. The people who really matter know about it, but I just tell casual acquaintances that she died and I'd rather not talk about it.

I wish I had a better answer, but the only one I have is time. It gets better.

It may seem a cliche but a professional-a good one-can help you with this. It may never go away the way you want it to, but there are inroads being made all the time into new forms of therapy that can help things feel better, including methods to help you become less sensitized to these experiences. I was a victim of extreme childhood trauma that I suffered a great deal over. I never thought I would come out of it and have a so called normal life. But I have, and am a happy (more or less) functioning person now. It took quite a while and I was not afraid to try lots of different stuff-some of it experimental. Don't try to go it alone cause you aren't. Hang in there and get help.

Stuck, I'd hold your hand when you walk past the fenceposts. I'd do that as many times as you wanted, if you wanted.

Anonymous, I'd take any object of your mother's that you were willing to show me, hold it and feel its weight.

Please don't believe that no other person can regard your lives beside you. Some of us can look and will not avert our eyes. Even if we have never been hurt as deeply.

Don't be afraid to love anyway. Pema Chodron is a writer who might help.

It's been said that feelings buried alive never die; they just sit there and wait to be given their due. My own experience resonates with what you shared with your letter writer Cary - that finding a way to get to the feelings and completely acknowledging them is a powerful and effective way to heal. It isn't easy and it takes some determination but it's so worth the effort.

The day I was widowed I fell to my knees and it took a lot of years to get back up. The whole time I was down there though I just kept telling myself that if these feelings of anger and pain were going to kill me, then they were going to kill me. So be it. The amazing thing was that they didn't. It helped to be honest about what I was feeling and not try and gloss over those feelings as if they weren't valid or rush through them because somebody said I should.

What I discovered in walking on into my heart of darkness, as frightening as it was to do it, was that I could survive it. I allowed myself to fall down into my deepest feelings of anger and pain and loss and feel what was there to feel, never quite expecting to return from the experience. But I did return and something in me healed in the process.

I hope your letter writer finds some comfort and encouragement in your words Cary - based on what I know and where I've been, they were insightful words.

Unfortunately for the LW, we live in a culture that does not really allow sufficient time for grieving. Within months or sometimes even weeks, people expect you to be able to move on. How can that be possible? Still, it does explain why some friends might disappear. They aren't able to deal with the emotions that someone else's grief brings up for them. If they can't, they can't. There are people, though, who can listen in the way the LW needs.

When my own mother died, I found a book, "The Grief Recovery Handbook," that was very helpful. It had exercises meant to be done and shared with another person... both the program and the encouragement that you suggested, Cary, in your thoughtful response. The real work, though, took quite some time, as any deep insights will.

I once read a description of education being about learning to read and write. Over and over again. First the rudiments, then for basic comprehension, and then continuing for more complex and subtle understanding and communication. I think grieving is like that, too. And just as there is something gained in the loss of innocence in becoming educated, there is also something to be gained in exploring our losses.