There will be no photograph, no name, to commemorate my friend here, to honor her life spent on earth, in this brief chapter of her own eternity.
Those who take their own lives are not easily blessed with celebration and honors upon their demise. My girlfriend took her life today to escape the prison of her own emotions, and a belief system she accepted from a distorted paradigm that is twisted with selfishness, self-doubt, and despair. But although she believed death would release her spirit from deep sadness, I believe she is facing it now, harder than ever.
Her “Spirit,” her “Being” is not gone, it’s just gone on ahead, and although I hope she is finally at peace, my gut tells me that now, in it’s new form, her Spirit will not be able to run from this life which she took prematurely, before its time.
No, I don’t believe you can run, nor can you hide. Your Life is a creative tapestry that cannot be unwoven.
I do not want to bring attention to her passing, which came for a handful of close friends here in Los Angeles as no shock after several years of roller-coaster ride conversations that took place in the middle of the night, and in the early morning, after she’d consumed copious amounts of liquor and pills.
Anyone who knew her in the last chapter of her mortal existence would simply nod, and sigh. This day was coming, as clearly as if the Grim Reaper had announced her death to us all — riding past our windows at night shouting her name out loud. We all knew, she had willed it so.
And for her friends who were there to listen to all of those sad stories, her death must somehow bring an unfortunate sense of relief too, like someone who has passed on after suffering many years from a terrible haunting malaise — although her disease was Sadness.
Despite all of our collective attempts, the countless hours of counseling, the encouraging words and emergency “visits” to talk her through an “episode of anger or terror,” in the end it was her destiny, or her own free will that took her away from this place that was for my dear friend, a torturous hell on earth.
Two weeks ago she called – again in the middle of the night. This time I did not answer. I wonder what would have happened had I answered the phone? Would it have made a difference? I don’t know. Could I have saved her, had I only answered the phone to pull her out of her depression as I’d done so many times in the past? I don’t know.
I will never know.
There is no relief for anyone, ultimately, when someone commits suicide. There are only questions left unanswered, and hearts that are broken; mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, daughters and sons, who are torpedoed with sadness, with houses that need to be cleared.
Suicide, I imagine, is a pathetic, cruel punishment for the dead and the living. It is ultimately, the epitome of selfishness in its most extreme form.
I think about my girlfriend, and I am sad, a little. But mostly, I hope she sees clearly – the extent of the damage she has done to so many people who loved her – and the damage she had caused to her own delicate Spirit that is a unique treasure beyond all imagination, and I pray she is resting in the arms of eternal love.
At the very least, I hope she knows she is loved.
Good night darling girl, till we meet again on another path, in another time.