.:Dreams and Swords:.

In Passing.

“Life lives, life dies. Life laughs, life cries. Life gives up and life tries. But life looks different through everyone's eyes.”

It's funny how quickly life can change. In the blink an eye. In a heartbeat. In the ringing of a telephone. We can become so focused on a certain, a single-focus mindset, that when a the wrecking ball comes to knock us down we never seeing coming.

My godmother's sister took her own life.

The phone call came this evening. My mother was the one to answer the phone. My godsister, J, was supposedly inebriated at the time. I can't really blame her. There's no good way to tell someone this kind of news.

At the time my mother came in to tell me what had happened, I had been writing a piece with a deadline. At first I didn't stop writing. It took a minute to for the words to sink in. Afterward a good minute incomprehension turned quickly to shock. What do you say to something like that?

I think I uttered something along the lines of "Jesus Christ."

Suicide is one of those things that impacts everyone. K played the part of the happy sister, letting everyone see the smile on her face. No one knew she was dying inside. Nobody knew the morbid thoughts running through her head. Slowly, and surely, over the course of a week, she forced herself not eat, starving herself to death.

It's hard to mourn her without feeling some type of anger. For me it is hypocrisy, but no less unfelt at her actions. Some many things she left unsaid, undone. Some many things for others that have to pick up the pieces while trying to understand why she did what she did. My godmother has become non-verbal. My godsister is drowning herself in substances. Can you truly mourn with anger? Can you grieve when you can't forgive the person who died quite yet?

The tears came as I remembered her. Flashes of her wedding and going out to dinner come and go in my mind. She always seemed to put on this happy face, trying desperately to feel, well, happy. Things afterward that point time though slowly went down hill. It's been years since I've seen her, but I still remember her smile.

There's an odd detachment to my sadness, like its something outside myself. I've been crying off and on for the past two hours or so. Every time I think of her, a deep sense of pain swells up inside me. But it seems like the two pieces aren't connected. Maybe its the anger. Maybe its the way she chose to kill herself. I mean, by God, going against the natural instinct eat for days. What could drive someone to do something like that?

I'm trying to finish the story I was writing. Somehow, in some weird deluded way, if I finish that damn thing maybe I'll find some answers to the questions left unanswered. Maybe then something will make sense. It's convuluted to be sure, I'm setting myself up for a fall, but I'm going to do it anyway.

What else can be done? I honestly want to know.