Everyone talks about "the first year" like it's a tunnel with a light at the end. Get through the firsts — first birthday, first Christmas, first anniversary — and then it gets easier.
That's not quite right. The first year is a minefield. You don't know where the explosions are until you step on them. Some firsts you see coming and they still hit you. Others ambush you on a Tuesday for no reason at all.
It doesn't get easier in a straight line. Month three can be worse than month one. People will tell you it gets better with time, and you'll want to scream, because it doesn't feel like it's getting better — it feels like it's getting more real.
That's the shock wearing off. The grief was always this big. You're just able to feel it now.
After suicide, the first year has an extra layer. The "firsts" include things other bereaved people don't have: the first time someone asks how they died and you have to decide what to say. The first time you hear the word "suicide" on the news and your whole body reacts. The first time someone says something ignorant and you have to choose between correcting them and walking away.
The first year also includes practical milestones that reopen wounds: police reports, coroner's inquests, death certificates with "suicide" printed on them in black and white. These can arrive months later, just when you thought you were finding your footing.
There is no right way to do the first year. Some people take time off work. Some people go back the next week because they need the structure. Some people talk about it constantly. Some people don't say a word for months. None of these is better or worse.
The firsts you dread the most aren't always the hardest. Sometimes the birthday you've been bracing for passes in a fog, and it's a random moment weeks later that brings you to your knees. You don't get to choose which ones hit hardest. You just get through them.
The first year doesn't end on the anniversary. There is no deadline. Some people feel a shift around the one-year mark. Some feel nothing. Some find the second year harder, because the world has stopped checking in.
There is no expiry date on your grief. The first year is just the first year. It's not the whole story.