
The Girl at My Daughter’s High School Dies by Suicide
I imagine a body on a shag rug in a not yet redone basement from the seventies with a brown bar and ripped bar stools. I am in this basement throwing bar stools. There is grass outside I guess. Once I was babysitting and I stuck one of those huge metal pins through the thick cloth of the double-folded diaper into the baby. I see my daughter fall from the Space Needle, six hundred and five feet up in the air, the mesh grate gone. I see my son plummet off the deck of the ferry, into the deep cold strait. This girl. You know that first year of their life when the stroller hits the curb wrong, or she screams for four hours straight and the second floor window is right there so you park her in the crib, stick in earplugs that cost three hundred dollars, eat chocolate alone on the sofa? You know that year when you are just trying to keep them alive?
2 replies on “The Girl at My Daughter’s High School Dies by Suicide”
Oh, that last question! Seems like every year sometimes.
I have the same reaction when I read about a young person taking his or her own life, and my daughter is 36 now with children of her own. . .to add to my list of horrific thoughts each time I read one of those stories. Thank you for sharing your feelings and thoughts – spot on.