Had my daughter lived she would’ve just celebrated her 25th birthday.

She died of a vicious form of cancer just days before her first birthday. She was our only child at the time.

Twenty-four years later, I still have no way to express what it is like to be a parent one day and then not the next. I had no idea what terror was before that day.

Her death is the seminal event of my life. The world changed, never to shift back. If you’ve lost a child, you get it. If not, I envy you.

I am forever indebted to those who pulled me through. Many had lost children themselves. I have tried to pay them back by being there myself for grieving parents, particularly men. We men have been conditioned to bottle up our pain (we are rarely rewarded for opening up).

A friend of mine just lost his adult son to suicide, a kind of hell even I can’t imagine.

Youth suicide is growing, and it’s little wonder: the crippling isolation from needless COVID lockdowns, the warped perception of reality from social media, a cancel culture that shames them into conformity, the mandated contradictions we force upon them — “Follow the science” when it comes to COVID masking but ignore science so “men can have babies.”

If you haven’t had a close friend lose a child from illness, accident, crime or suicide, chances are you will. You’ll want to help them but might be unsure how. I don’t have all the answers, but I have some advice.

There is an unspoken reluctance to diving into your friend’s agony because it forces you to realize you might be him tomorrow. You spurn thoughts of your own kid dying. Can’t do that when holding a crying, devastated parent. Many of my “good” friends went missing when my daughter died.

My biggest advice is just be there for your friend despite how it makes you fragile (and it will). Let them emote, or scream and cry, or just be silent for endless hours.

It’s miserable to see someone you care about inconsolable. You just want them to hurt less. But their grief won’t bend to your timeline.

Please never say things like, “it’s time to let him go,” or “it’s time you move on.” What they hear is “I’m uncomfortable watching you like this. So, for my sake, stop it.” It’s selfish.

The “comforting words” I particularly hated were, “She’s in a better place now.” It took what little strength I had left not to growl back, “Well, don’t you want your child in a better place too? If you believe what you say, go make it happen.”

What you can say is how honored you are to know their child and how you’ll never forget him or her. We parents live to talk about our kids. There’s a desperation when you recognize you’ll never have news about your child to share with family and friends. Hearing people keep your child’s memory alive is comforting.

The mourning process for a parent doesn’t really end. But it does evolve and turn beautiful over time. The searing pain fades, but it takes more years than people would ever comprehend. Even when your friend is acting like himself again, be assured he is not himself. You just don’t see him rolled up on the floor crying, but he is. Yes. Years after.

I don’t know about grieving mothers, but every grieving father I’ve known has seriously contemplated suicide. I tell you this not to freak you out, but to say it’s normal, part of the process. If he does talks to you about it, be honored and let him talk. Of course, be watchful and ready to intervene, but I’ve yet to know a father who has killed himself. It’s a process he must go through.

There is a fair chance I will outlive my son with Down syndrome. I find my thoughts meandering about ending it after he goes. It’s a form of pre-grief. It’s healthy to process these feelings. Help your friend process it. Don’t make it hard for him to share.

The first year without your child is hell, but holidays are the worst. Include your friends in your plans and let them know it’s fine not to show or leave early.

They can’t say it yet, so I will. Thank you for pulling them through. You’re incredible.

Jon Caldara is president of the Independence Institute in Denver and hosts “The Devil’s Advocate with Jon Caldara” on Colorado Public Television Channel 12. His column appears Sundays in Colorado Politics.