I know what it feels like to be out of your head. It’s that sensation that behind your eyeballs your mind swims within that viscous senescence being stuff.
Sorry, I’m not trying to be fancy, but I think that last sentence is accurate. I’m aging during a pandemic and I don’t know what to think. I don’t have precise thoughts like I typically would.
Since we are living within an actual nightmare, the other day at the grocery store staring at the buy-one-get-one-free coffee display, I realized I had missed my annual opportunity to remember my friend.
Unfortunately, one sad night during mid-March, she took her life.
I cry about her memory because I think it mentally healthy. She deserved better.
I try not to let people know this, but for her memory I’ll just write it out, I’m sensitive to the extreme.
I pick up on things I wish I didn’t pick up on and internalize. But I do.
Any who, one night she came over to our marvellous house before we moved and hung out with us and our neighbors.
We all adored her. She was striking, smart, and she mingled well. I adored her.
We moved away; I lost touch with her.
One day I got a strange smartphone call from a former employee. In retrospect, I guess my former employee had drawn the short straw.
I got the tragic news. I tried to absorb the blow. I failed. I am thankful to have been alone.
It’s important to share a nugget. My deceased friend had read parts of my first novel, Bobby’s Socks, before I had sent it off to the publisher. (The shared photo is the original book cover .)
Writing a novel about trauma and suicide is not a pleasant journey. But she had shared her darkness with me, and I had shared my darkness with her. We understood each other. We had a strong emotional bond.
We were a lot closer than anyone might have realized and not icky, but in a “I’ll always be your older friend way”.
I think she would appreciate my next words written in her memory. In honor of her.
We are all living within a stress cocoon. I try not to watch the news. I try to be patient and kind. I try. I fail.
Ask yourself a question, “I never know?”
If you think about it, if you never know, you might keep breathing and trying. Think about it.
A simple, positive outcome. You might be the parent of a child that solves the riddle for all cancers.
All because you kept asking yourself a simple question, “I never know?”
So, you stayed with us on planet earth.
I’ll share a truth. Since I was a teenager, I have kept asking myself that same question.
“I never know?”
NS
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