Scrubbed my face, drinking the coffee, and trying to put words down for this late rise. I’ve wanted a “Time Out” day to linger among the dirty laundry and dishes. To be quiet with myself and listen to the blood drops between chamber beats. While wrapping the wet hair in the towel, I realized that grief still lingers there and this sudden sense of gratefulness came over me. I’ve always lived by the precept that grief is a reflection of how much we care and to let ourselves feel it through, honors those who left. Yadda yadda yadda.
My friend Mouse was an important person to me. We haven’t seen each other since high school. In High School, we were alphabetically connected in advisory class. We shared our lives on periphery of existence making each other laugh before heading out into our separate spheres. About a year ago, we connected on the fb and continued our relationship. Adding wit and insight to the random status updates. Mouse had a tendency to repost my prose and poetry and I love him for this.
I suspected he was heading into his downward spiral. His post had a labile nature and we all understood he was spending time with a 1/5th of grief. I wasn’t on myface when he suddenly broke and decided to head out. Thoughts still linger with what I could have done if I had been reading his posts. My license stipulates assistance when I suspect harm against self or others. There is comfort in legal obligation when in the personal realm it’s hard to know when to step in. I know if I had been present, I would have stepped in. This is the hard part of grief because as his friend, I wanted the opportunity to step in and “ap him” to a hospital for 72 hour observation – to allow professionals to work with him on different options. So he could dry out and have a clear head for the choice, if he still wanted to kill himself.
What’s done is done. This plot hook in my narrative has no place to go. Mouse killed himself. Others did try to step in to no avail. I wonder when I will pick up this thread in my story that feels unresolved. I am angry at him too without judgment and appreciate anger in the grief process. I do know this has influenced me working harder with the clients I have regarding S/I.
And then there is the choice in the matter. I believe death is a choice for some and would never try and take it away. Mouse made that choice, despite others trying to support him through different options. So, I put down the little hook in my head that wants to linger in the “what ifs”. I accept then that I am left with the sadness, confusion, anger, and hope that I feel in this bag called grief.
My days are good right now. Life has never felt so simple, pure and whole. My love, my friends, my family, and even my coworkers bring laughter and support everyday. My photography keeps me sane. Writing has slowed due to life’s technical obligations and my time is filled with getting the logistics done. I knew January and February would be busy months taking away from this area. I am a self-entertaining unit and this is bringing me joy. So, I let the sadness linger in my heartbeats. I let myself feel the loss of my friend. He really was important to me. It’s in this importance that grief becomes sacred. I am not sure how long it will linger. As long as it needs to, I suppose. I am not one to hold onto it as a reflection of care, simply a person who allows this self to feel it until like most things; it is ready to pack its bags and go.
I take time to support his friends that were closer and are having a harder time. I believe when people leave this earth, they leave like a rain drop in water, causing ripples connecting together those left behind. The closer one is to the epicenter, the bigger the waves. So, I hold their hands and simply listen to them. He was most definitely missed by many. Suicide is a harsh one to deal with too. The inheritance from such a death can even linger through the generations. Ah, but that is a conversation for another time. I’ll leave that one for the poetry.
For now, I miss you Mouse.