Lost in July

epilogue.

Two Years Later

"It's truly beautiful what you guys do," the grey-haired woman praises me, holding my hands in her cold, gentle ones. "And it's amazing all you've overcome. You should be very proud of yourself."

I smile politely. I've learned to smile without feeling the urge to scream. "Thank you."

The woman releases my hands, and I move on to the next person awaiting a conversation with me.

Luckily, Bethany saved me from another round of appreciative compliments.

"You looked like you needed saving," she says, pulling me into a small room away from the banquet hall.

I laugh. "It's not so bad." It's not. It's nice being the person people trust for answers or guidance rather than the girl everyone avoided.

Bethany hands me a bottle of water, and I gulp it down, satiating my thirst. "How are you?" I ask after swallowing.

She gives a weak smile. The only form she knows since he left. "As good as I can be. You know how these events are. That's why Alex can't come anymore."

Collin's father stopped attending charity events and fundraisers after he realized it would always be a sympathy fest.

"I know," I say, offering a sad smile. "Collin's proud of you two. I know it." I've been trying to hold onto positivity these days. My episodes have been less extreme and far between. I think the work I've been doing is helping.

On the anniversary of Collin's death, his parents and I started a charity fund dedicated to mental health and suicide awareness. We donate to Orchard Hills and hundreds of other hospitals and programs in the area. Bethany has started giving speeches at high schools, many of which have reached out to us first. Bethany is a trusted adult in the community, and her work with suicide prevention has been inspiring. 

I've been writing for our blog, His Journal, trying to spread information on how to help, love, and care for loved ones with mental illnesses. I occasionally post poems and prose about depression, anxiety, and bipolar disorder. It's important to me that people understand more than just the suicide rate. They need to understand what is causing it, too. 

I was able to graduate after taking a few summer courses. I decided to wait to go to college and focus on myself and the work I'm doing with the Fitzpatricks.

The Collin Alexander Fund has raised nearly two million dollars since its start nearly two years ago. I credit most of that to the Fitzpatrick's contact list, but I've put in a lot of time working on campaigns and social media, spreading his message.

The blog is my way of speaking to him and those he loved. I keep his intention and his heart in mind any time I do work with his charity. Bethany and I have become extremely close, and the love she has shown me since Collin's death has helped me push through. She gave me a place to live when my mother kicked me out for refusing college. Marley eventually convinced her to take me in, but I've had money rolling in from my freelance writing and waitressing gig, so I finally saved enough to get my own apartment. 

Alexander took longer to come around. He has a hard shell protecting himself, but losing his only son took away some of his tough exterior. He's taken me in as a daughter of his own, and I don't know how I could ever repay this family for what they've done for me.