30 days ago, one of my best friends killed herself.
I got the news on the side of 1-40 just east of Memphis. I was driving home from a dear friends wedding that took place the afternoon before when my husband called and told me to pull over. "she's in the ambulance now" he told me. I drove to Ikea while I waited to hear an update from the hospital. I was surrounded by dressers, or maybe bookshelves when I got the final news: brain dead, ventilator. unrecoverable. I will never see Ikea the same way again.
I don't know how I got home. God's grace I suppose. Those 6 hours were the longest and shortest of my life. I screamed. I cried. I thought I would vomit. I didn't play a single song. I didn't want any music to ever remind me of this day. I got gas, and ice and cheezits. "My friend will never eat cheezits again," I thought. I purchased $50 of random items in Ikea while walking in circles sobbing trying to find my way out of the store.
The days between death and the funeral were like a fog: taking her kids to school. Driving her van. A fear of the dark. Shopping for my funeral dress. Shopping for her funeral clothes. Getting her kids fitted for their funeral outfits. A grief and an emptiness and an anger and a guilt that I have never, ever felt before. I replayed every conversation, re-read a years worth of texts. Listened to old voicemails. Pulled up old emails and browsed years of photos remembering the births of our kids, trips taken together and countless, almost daily meet-ups. I sat in shock. I cried until there was nothing left.
I know better... but I am haunted by the "what if's?" the "should have/could have/would haves" and the never relenting, unanswerable question of "why?"
Mental illness is a bitch, but it doesn't have to be a death sentence. My friend was so much more than this horrible choice. She was funny and kind. She had seemingly infinite patience with her kids. She had a gift for putting things into perspective for me and others. She had a love of good food, good conversation and Jesus. She had a calm presence and a laugh that I miss dearly. Things are simply not the same without her.
When I got home that day, I went to the hospital to see her. The darkness...what it had done... there are no words. I wept for my friend. I held her hand. I said good-bye. I told her I would love her kids. I told her I wish I had been a better friend. I went back Tuesday one last time to hold her hand and cry. To remind her that she was loved, and that she was missed and that I was already looking forward to the day I would see her again.
In the last 31 days I celebrated one friends wedding, grieved another friends funeral, celebrated the end of the school year/beginning of summer, absorbed the news of shooting after shooting after shooting, took my kids to splash pads, museums and swimming pools, watched my son start reading and celebrated (early!) my 10 year wedding anniversary.
Life contains multitudes. I only wish my friend could have remembered that when she needed it most.