What to Say?

First of all, I need to thank everyone for all the comments, e-mails, and IMs expressing your sympathy and caring. This is a hard time for me, made only more difficult by the realization that it was not an accident.

Pam was driven to suicide...and an extraordinary one at that. It has been concluded that after she left her car, she walked down the train tracks...and then laid down...and waited. That imagery has not left my mind all day...imagining what might go through a person's mind while watching a train come crashing down upon them. Did she think about her family, her children, friends, colleagues...did she think about me? How did she not think about how her children would feel?

It is said that suicide is a selfish act. I never knew the truth in that until someone so close to me succumbed to it. She got a way out, and now we deal with the aftermath. It is us, her family and friends, that are left picking up the pieces...trying to put together what happened.

Her memory is tainted, slightly, for me now. No longer will she be 'my friend Pam' - she is now 'my friend Pam that committed suicide'. Her death now not only brings feelings of sadness, but anger as well. It angers me that she didn't seek help. It angers me that when she was at home that night and said she was going to hurt herself her husband did not call authorities for assistance. It angers me that there were WITNESSES that saw her lay down on the tracks. Who, in the their right mind, sees a woman lay herself across a railroad track and does NOTHING? It angers me that she didn't value herself enough to understand how we would react. It angers me that she didn't value us enough to avoid putting us through this.

That said, I know how she felt. I attempted suicide once during the summer of 1999, about 6 months after my mother died. After swallowing handfuls of pills and laying down in bed, I began to think of all my great friends and how I would feel if they did the same to me. It was those thoughts that sent me to the bathroom to rid myself of the medicines and pills I had injested. It was a long time before I told anyone what had happened...most still don't know. I know, though, that for those of us that suffer from depression, the nights are often the hardest times. You seem more isolated, more alone, more depressed in the middle of the night. As my friend Ami said yesterday, "The demons seem more real in the night".

Her funeral will be this Sunday at the same church she was married in just months ago. I dread seeing her children. They know of the special relationship I shared with their mother, while we have never been that close. I will be going with Cherie...my only mom left...and we will, no doubt, be a blubbering mess throughout the affair.

Thanks again, guys...your heartfelt words have really been nice to hear. I heart you all super a lot...