Today’s post is somewhat bleaker than I would have liked. Indeed, I don’t like writing this post at all. However, it’s message is important, and I must.
Over the weekend as we celebrated my oldest son’s 6th birthday, a childhood friend of mine was contemplating her death. At 34 years old she was found hanging in the garage of her parents’ home, where she lived. Apparently, she’d sent a text to an ex-boyfriend to say goodbye and late evening on Saturday she pinned a note to herself and stepped off this mortal coil.
I know no other circumstances.
Her Korean family are very private, but they embraced me as a visitor in their home as we were growing up and I always felt welcome. It was one of E’s sisters that I went to school with. E was a year younger than us but the three of us spent alot of time together in our highschool years. She was cute, bright and bubbly–certainly the most outgoing member of her family.
We lost touch after highschool. I lived out of the state for a while and we all got busy with our own things. I strain to remember the last time I saw E but I think it was when she, and her sister, came to see my wedding over eight years ago. They gave us a beautiful glass mosaiced lamp as a gift and it’s been next to my bed ever since.
I regret that I didn’t endeavour to make contact in those years. However, I remember a happy friendship and I hope as time goes by those memories overtake the raw feelings over the news of this suicide. But now I am just heartbroken that she must have been feeling such sadness and despair.
I don’t want to write this post, but I must, because I don’t wish for anyone else to feel how she must have felt.