I'm almost a decade and a half behind in writing this post. I guess that was a time before I possessed a computer, the maturity to tackle this subject, and the emotional clarity to form my opinion from my heart rather than my head. I would like to remind you, dear readers, that this is only MY opinion and am not attacking the views or people that you know that this may be relevant to.
Do you remember what you were doing May 22nd, 1998? I do. I had traveled with my father from our home in Prince Albert to Saskatoon to grab odds and ends needed for my upcoming graduation. I think we got a bustier type bra to go under my gown that was purchased during an earlier trip and shoes. We arrived back home late afternoon/early evening. My grandma, who had been living with us since my mom passed away from cancer two years earlier, informed my a friend had contacted me in regards to a friend who had passed away. The name my grandma had said didn't sound familiar, so I thought it was just my gossipy friend had news about an unfortunate accident involving someone we knew by name more than by association. I picked up the phone, confused, to call my friend to see what it was she had to say, she wasn't home but her parents had the message for me. Had I ever been wrong. It wasn't just someone by association and my world had just been rocked.
Ladies and gentleman, on May 22nd, 1998 I was formally introduced to someone I had heard of but never had been formally introduced to. I had come face to face with, Suicide.
February 1989 our family had moved from the lower West side of our city up to the upper East side. It was halfway through my Grade 4 year and this move meant switching schools. In my class was one of the most beautiful girls I had ever laid eyes upon. I had pretty girls in my previous school but this girl had long dark hair and eyes that reminded you of a cat. She also had the look completed with a Cindy Crawford-esque mole on her cheek. She was only eight years old but you could tell she was going to become a gorgeous woman.
Oddly, and not quite sure how, we became fast and easy friends. Gorgeous K wasn't above it all to be seen with fat frumpy me. We quickly became inseperable. If I was somewhere, it was almost guaranteed K wouldn't be far behind and the reverse, if K was around, I'd be around shortly. Sleepovers, bike rides, mischief, guzzling tons of iced tea in the back of her dad's truck (don't ask), cheesy movies, and stupid dreams...that was us!
Grade seven came along...Jr High. We were in different classes. We started having different interests. We started hanging with different crowds. We never had a fight. Never yelled at each other, "I don't want to be your friend!". We just stopped being.
Another year, another move for me. Suddenly I found myself in a different province, let alone a different school. When I got back from BC, I was in a different school, in a different part of the city. I didn't lose all my friends, in fact two of my best friends were still in the other school, but K was definitely not on the "must call" list. We never really came into contact. Since grade seven, the only time I had seen her was when I was between 16 and 18, when she'd occasionally come through the drive thru at my work. Nothing was said but the usual transaction between cashier and customer. You'd never know that at one time it was essential for K and I to be around each other. That at one time, we had seemed like each other's oxygen.
I'm sure with my little back story you've realized who Suicide had tempted with it's promise of being carefree and worry free. Yes, beautiful K, who had indeed turned into a gorgeous young woman, decided to take her own life. That was 14 years ago today. Someone born that day is only 3 years away from being the age she was when her life ended. It seems so unreal.
I hate suicide. H-A-T-E, hate it! Life is short enough already and seriously, there are so few things in life that makes it THAT horrible. Most things can be worked through or, if you fast forward a few years, such non-issues that you can't even recall what was so horrible to begin with. Also, I lost my mom to cancer. She had no choice but to die. She would have given anything to be able to live. Here are people with a great gift, life, but choose to waste it. It's something that makes me angry as hell. I also think the people who do it are the most greedy, selfish people on the face of this earth. Yes, K included. I'm sure K's life and situation wasn't as bad as she imagined it to be. Then again, I guess I wasn't in her shoes.
She always seemed to have wanted something better than what she had. She would refuse to acknowledge her race background, which was obvious. When I'd be about to head home for supper, she'd convince me to stay, and go on and on about the delicious supper that was planned there and then we'd end up eating PB and J sandwiches. I wasn't friends with her because I thought of her as a "white girl who eats steak for supper" but because I had a lot of fun with her. I guess I should have probably let her know.
My thoughts, when someone is in the throes of contemplating suicide, they can't see the forest through the trees. They are so involved with the way they feel, they forget how they're going to impact the world around them. That no matter how unloved you feel, there are actually a legion of people who love you and the loss of you from their lives and the unanswered questions and guilt, and the question 'if they could have done just one thing different would you still be here' will haunt them forever. There were a lot of people at that funeral and there were a lot of tears, she was far from alone and unloved.
Fourteen years later, I'm still holding onto some of the anger and guilt. If I had acknowledged her when she came through the drive thru instead of waiting for her to acknowledge me, would we have become each other's oxygen again? Could I have been there at the end of a phone extension when she felt like she just couldn't take no more and be able to encourage that, indeed, she could? I doubt it. It probably be words that had fallen on deaf ears, but the what ifs are just so heavy in a situation like this and I shouldn't be so egotistical to think that I'm important enough to be the difference between life and death.
I gaze upon my husband and my two kids and think...she could have had this. She could have easily been bestowed this happiness. Instead, there's pictures and statuses in her honour on facebook. A family missing their daughter, sister, and aunt. I hate suicide! I hate the fact that you took a friend, even if we were estranged. I'll never forgive you for promising K the solution to all her problems in a nice tidy package but with a huge string attached. You glitter when the world seems dark but the glitter wears off quickly, and you're darker than the night itself. I'm not fooled, you help no one.
K, I wish I had talked to you all those times I had seen you. It's a guilt that will live on with me forever. I may not have seen or talked to you for years but your death was no less heartbreaking to me. I'll never forget you.
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