It’s an indescribable feeling to see such a vital and beautiful thing
looking so motionless and fake. Seeing her lying there reminded
me of my track coach after he passed away during my senior year
in high school. His face was sucked of life, he resembled a doll,
he was lifeless. Then to see the girl I spent every day with for the
last two years in a similar box with the same light striking her face
that did for every day of her nineteen years was just as hard. The
difference between those many sunsets is that this is the last one
that will ever grace her gentle and loving face.
For weeks after the funeral I stared at a little white envelope with
my name scribed desperately in thick black strokes. She never
wrote with a heavy hand when she was happy. Finally, when I felt
strong enough, I broke the seal and took in her final words.
“Jay, I see my eyes buried deep within my shadow-ridden face. My
mouth, void of happiness, reveals the devices with which I tear
apart food. These mandibles have crushed animal, bone, and your
heart. They oscillate, spitting forth the passions of my inner
demons, hurting everyone I love and care about. Like a criminal
relative, I have learned to love and accept my mouth because I can
never replace it. Well, accept anyway, as I have no love for myself
anymore. My turmoil and pain come from tangible anguish to
inexplicable agony. Sometimes my body aches from a tangible
bruise, cut or strain (many of which are the results of my own
actions). Other times my brain tortures my heart with wild images
and explicit thoughts of crushing reality and speculation. Maybe I
seem like a coward to you running away, but you only see what you
want to see. Sometimes by staying you are the one running and
hiding.
“My heart and being are alone physically, emotionally and mentally.
I am so lonely. There have been too many lonely Friday nights.
Now look at me. I am here with a serrated dinner knife pressed
against my neck and all I can wonder is just how much I will feel it
when I summon up the courage to slice my neck and leave this
horrible world. I have stared into the mirror until my eyes cascade
with clear blood, and all I see is a mistake looking back at me.
Finally, I fear nothing: myself, my past, my parents, death … Am I
crazy for entertaining my darkest thoughts? My eyes burn, my body
is wasted, it is time for me to go. I will miss you.”
She didn’t even sign her name. We had been through so much
together, from rape to depression, that I was just exhausted.
Seeing her writhing on the floor in her world of agony every day,
crying and moaning, was something I just couldn’t handle. So, to
give her time alone and to get away, I came to Oregon to chase my
running dreams. Her episodes (as she called them) got worse
and worse from week to week, and the only thing I could do was
listen on the other end of a phone three thousand miles away.
She had called me two weeks before I received the news, and I
asked her to write me a note if she felt suicidal, hoping it would
deter her. Now, all I have is a letter from a broken soul that could
not find the strength to go on. Everything inside of me died a little
when I heard she was gone. Death isn’t a vacation. She isn’t
studying abroad; she is gone forever. What could I have done to
help her more than I did? Why isn’t she waking up today? Maybe if I
had flown back to Boston to see her, I could have saved her.
Feelings of despair affect not only the person suffering, but the
people around them. In this particular instance, someone I love is
gone forever, and I am riddled with the guilt over what I could have
and should have done. In Christine’s case, medication and
biweekly therapy sessions weren’t enough. However, many people
just need someone to lead them to help with a caring and
non-judgmental hand. So if you can stop someone in your life from
ending everything, do whatever is in your power, because it’s a
long life to miss someone.