In Memory

I attended the memorial for the friend, daughter, sister that committed suicide in February, today.

I have been in communication with the friend that has taken on the role of custodian for the mother. 

We have spoken and texted and e-mailed. 

Here is my dirty little secret- I never visited her in assisted living, even though I had been rather dedicated and faithful in the past.  I had been a fixture in her life, ever since her son, my dear friend, committed suicide in 1985. 

Then I failed.  

I chickened out. 

I am that big of a coward.

How can you go on when both of your children are dead?    

That is what I asked my custodian friend. That is what I asked myself.  I didn't come up with a suitable answer.

The service was beautiful. 

I wept the whole time, leaning on my friend J, who I have known since 6th grade. 

You never talked

Is what I said to him, of our youth. 

I never talked, until I was 20.  I never really talked.  

Is what he said of our youth. 

There was a punk rock icon in attendance. 

We talked about choosing a school for your child. 

We talked about how weird it is to be old. 

To have time pass.

We talked about people we knew in common. 

I had forgotten to eat, so by 3:00pm I was an inarticulate, dry mouthed mess.

I like your dimples. 

Is what the mother of the two dead people said to me. 

We talked about art for children.

Are you still teaching?

I am director at a fancy preschool and kindergarten, with 170 children. 

She likes impressive things. 

She likes people to be accomplished and beautiful.