I'm Starting to Forget Things About My Daughter. And I Hate It. | Remembering Her After Suicide Loss
October 12, 2026
Chris Coulter, Author & CEO and Co-Founder, The Mentor Well
Tom O'Connor, Publisher
If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, call or text 988 or visit https://988lifeline.org/ to chat in the U.S. If there is immediate danger, call 911.
KEY POINTS
After suicide loss, Chris Coulter finds that some everyday memories of his daughter Maddie are becoming harder to recall, even as his love for her remains. |
He preserves her stories through writing, photographs, videos, and conversations that help others know who she was. |
Her laughter, kindness, humor, swim meets, and ordinary family moments are central to the life he wants remembered. |
Maddie’s life meant more than the circumstances of her death; sharing her name and stories helps keep that fuller life in view. |
I wrote something in 2017 that is getting harder for me to read. It was called "The Things I Miss Most About Maddie." At the time, I was scared I would start forgetting the little things about my daughter. I have. And that hurts to admit: Living with suicide loss means I am still grieving Maddie while trying to hold on to the details of her life.
Pictures help me remember what Maddie looked like. Writing helps me capture these memories. Videos let me hear her voice. But nothing fully captures what it felt like to have her in our house. And that is what I never want to lose.
These are the things that make me smile and feel sad at the same time when I remember Maddie.
• The pile of girls' shoes and boots at the front door.
• Asking her 100 times to clean her room, then discovering most of the mess had simply been shoved into drawers, her closet, or under the bed.
• She yelled from upstairs after posting something on Instagram: "Like my picture, Daddy!"
• Being told that my clothes belonged in the 1980s.
• Buying her the wrong Christmas or birthday present and being informed that I should have just bought a gift card.
• Watching old movies together. Stand by Me was her favorite.
• Her ability to know when I'd had a bad week. She would hug me, check on me, and say, "I love you, Daddy."
• Her huge and raucous laugh.
• Her love of music and her ability to know every word to seemingly every song.
• Her intensity before a swim race.
• The ridiculous videos that would mysteriously appear on my computer or phone.
• Maddie and her cousin Emma perform their E-Mad comedy routines at the cottage.
• All three kids slept in the same bed on Christmas Eve, then woke me at 4 AM to begin negotiations over when presents could be opened.
These are the things I want people to know about Maddie Coulter.
She was funny.
She was loud.
She was kind.
She was stubborn.
She was empathetic.
She was fiercely independent.
She could drive you crazy, in the best way possible.
She loved deeply.
She lived.
When someone dies by suicide, there is a danger that the way they died slowly becomes the headline of their entire life.
I refuse to let that happen to Maddie. She had almost 15 years of birthdays, Christmas mornings, swim meets, music, friendships, family dinners, cottage summers, bad jokes, messy bedrooms, arguments, hugs, and laughter.
Her final day doesn't erase all the days that came before it.
Back in 2017, I wrote that the details were already starting to fade. Almost nine years later, some have.
So I write them down.
I tell the stories.
I say her name.
Because I want Zac and Sawyer to remember. I want the people who knew her to remember. And I want people who never had the chance to meet her to know who she actually was. Maddie was my daughter. Her life meant so much more than how it ended.
You May Also Like
Who Maddie was, the years since her death, and what her life has shaped. It complements this article by giving readers more of Maddie's story and the work that followed.
What happens after the initial wave of support disappears and everyone else returns to their lives? A different side of long-term grief.
A more recent and personal exploration of living with Maddie's death eleven years later and the questions people often don't ask.
FAQ
Is it normal for memories of someone who died to fade?
Individual details can become harder to recall over time. Fading details don't measure how much someone mattered to you. Writing stories, saving recordings, and talking with people who knew them can help preserve memories that might otherwise become harder to access.
How can I preserve memories of someone I've lost?
Write down specific stories, not just dates and milestones. Save voice recordings, videos, messages, recipes, and photographs. Ask friends and family to contribute their memories too. Different people often remember completely different versions of the same person.
Why can ordinary memories feel so significant after someone dies?
Much of a relationship happens in ordinary moments. The way someone laughed, what they ordered at a restaurant, the music they played, and the things they did that irritated you can become some of the details you miss most.
How do you talk about someone who died by suicide without letting suicide define them?
Talk about their whole life. Use their name. Tell funny stories. Talk about their interests, relationships, accomplishments, quirks, and imperfections. Their death is part of their story, but it does not have to become their entire identity.
What should I say to someone grieving the loss of a child?
You do not need a perfect sentence. Mention their child's name when appropriate. Ask about them. Listen to the stories. Remember significant dates. And continue checking in after the first weeks and months have passed.
Read Chris' bio by clicking his icon at the start of this article.
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