Trigger Warning: Death, Suicide So today (5th of November) marks the 9th anniversary of my uncle's death... I never wrote about it before so it's very personal... The first time I was confronted with death, I was thirteen years old. Until then, I had considered myself lucky. I had spent thirteen years of my existence not losing anyone, and especially, not worrying or even thinking about losing someone I cared about. My grandparents were healthy, my parents were fine, my siblings and I were thriving. No one in my family had ever been seriously ill or had been in an accident. I thought we were invincible. I naively believed that it was always going to be that way; but, for a time, it was a nice feeling to hold onto. It didn’t last long, however. My first experience with death was a brutal one. It happened violently and unexpectedly. It took me by surprise and, from one day to the other, everything changed.