This is something that is not easy to write about, or even think about. Today marks two years since I said goodbye to you. Since I carried your coffin and lowered you into your place of rest. However it is not that day that haunts me the most, it is the day I found out you were on life support and they were switching off the machines.
It was a usual day in the office and I worked for the best company I have ever worked for. We were all SAS programmers and we were all very open and supportive of one another. It was winter, my favourite time of year.
I don’t remember what day it was or even what time it was that I received the phone call. I do remember how I felt though, the way my heart fell from my chest and the phone fell from my hands. The way the tears seemed to come almost uncontrollably and the way I tried desperately to smother the scream that wanted to slip from my lips.
I was always receiving phone calls about one thing or another because you had mental health problems and you would always hurt yourself, but you always bounced back. This time though, you didn’t bounce back. You were successful in ending your life, leaving me unsure of if it were an accident or on purpose.
I loved you with every beat of my heart and you ending your life broke my heart into a thousand pieces that I have not to this day figured out how to repair.
While you ending your life broke my heart, broke a 10 year friendship, and broke me in ways I cannot begin to explain, I do not hold it against you at all. You were suffering after experiencing things that I and most people cannot comprehend.
You supported me through anorexia and then bipolar. We shared our ups and downs together, our sanity and insanity, and you were there for me. I only hope that you knew that I was there for you too, but I will always beat myself up over not being there enough to have saved you.