Something extremely painful happened last week. My very good friend decided to take her own life. I wonder why we say “take her own life” when in reality, she had chosen to leave her own life instead. What demons tormented her mind, I cannot even begin to imagine. What I do remember is the last time I saw her, our bodies locked in a goodbye hug, before I stepped out of her house. It was a Monday.
She died on a Tuesday morning.
Suddenly, the days and dates become very important. They are the only temporal markers we can hold onto. They help us to make sense of this distorted space-time dimension. As if building a chronological story would breathe life back into her being. To begin again at the beginning.
The last thing she said to me was, “I’m going to lie down for a while.”
Rest well then, my friend.