One single, yellow rose...

 

For the past two days, I have been cleaning out old childhood stuff I had apparently just threw in boxes and stuck in my parents' attic.  Anyone need 30-year old Smarties?  As I was throwing old papers away (like my VBS perfect attendance certificate), I came across a notebook.  This was a notebook from my early college years that seems to be a tool I used to write my thoughts, struggles, and emotions.  I wrote stories, something I had always loved doing.  As I flipped and read these former stories, I came across something I wrote about the impact a childhood friend's death had on me.  Death is never easy for a child or teen to comprehend, much less someone that was a childhood friend.  But when that death is a suicide, it leaves years of questioning and hurt.  Just a few weeks ago, students at my school experienced this (or shall I say "are experiencing" this).  I did not teach the particular student that took his own life; however, a flood of emotions came back to the pain these students would experience.  I praise my school district (and local community) for being hands-on during this time, offering support to these students.  Many often wonder what to say during something like this.  I have learned that sometimes the best thing to say is nothing.  Listen, love, and cry. 

So, here is my story found...

    Many times in our lives, we take advantage of our friendships.  We expect our friends to always be there- smiling, talking, dancing.  However, little do we realize, due to the blindness in our eyes or due to our naive minds, our friends are human beings.  One day, they may be here; one day, they may be gone.  I was once in that particular situation.  I will never forget the day when I found out the most horrifying news a child sixteen years of age could ever hear...

    Growing up in a male-dominated neighborhood, I was one of three girls who hung out together with the guys.  Their boyish ways and personalities didn't bother us one bit.  We loved the three-wheeler riding, the mud-sliding, and the pond-swimming.  We had more guy friends than girls and proud of it.  Being as young as we were, we never realized that one of our friends could - or would - die at a young age.  Or more harshly, our friends would actually encounter problems so horrible, they (the problems) couldn't be avoided.  My junior year in high school, a dose of real life smacked me - including my sister and best friend - in the face.

    It was another windy day when I stepped off that big, yellow school bus.  As usual, I laid on the floor in front of the television to work on my Algebra II homework.  Minutes later, my sister interrupted my thinking to tell me about a good friend who, for reasons unknown, committed suicide.  At first, the news was absorbed like any other news.  Seconds later, however, the dam broke.  How could this happen?  Cries were heard throughout the house.  Throughout the night, I tried to understand the circumstances.  Nothing was resolved. The next day at school was beyond dreadful.  Being one of few at my school who was close to the victim, not one person knew when to shut-up about the recent "news."  For three straight hours, I cried uncontrollably.  Leaving the classes, choking on my river of tears, was beginning to become common to me.  My friends couldn't come to terms with me.  They didn't know him like I did.  The funeral was the next day.  I thank God everyday that my sister and best friend were there; of course, we supported each other during this confusing time.  Throughout the funeral, my mind wondered aimlessly through the great memories I had with him.  Questions also flooded my every thought.  Why did he do this?  What could have been so awful in his life for him to end it?  That night, I thought I had pulled myself somewhat together (what to be expected at least). While talking with a good friend who lived hours away, I realized I wasn't in a nightmare - this event in my life was actually real.  The dam broke; the river flooded.  My emotions were on the loose.  That same friend I was on the phone with was gracious enough to drive nearly two hours to pick me up and take me home with her - to help me get away from my present surroundings (at my home, I could "see" him in the halls, "feel" his presence).   That night, I questioned everything again.  This time, however, I questioned myself.  Could I have prevented this?  What if I went out on a date with him when he asked me (I always declined)?  Could a conversation which might have occurred prevented this?  I was extremely pissed at him.  First, how could he put us - his friends - through this?  How dare him!  Second, I blamed myself.  If only I could have talked to him more (I became distant with him throughout the past years).  Last, I cried - I cried for the good times we have; I cried for the good times we weren't going to have; I...CRIED!  I didn't know which was worst...losing a friend to suicide, knowing his life was so bad he wanted to end it, or losing a friend suddenly (car wreck and so on)?

    Today, I still think about him.  Every Clarkson Memorial at his gravesite, we lay a single, yellow rose on his grave - yellow to represent the love and the friendship we had for him.  This tragic experience did teach me one important lesson: don't take friends or family for granted.  Accidents occur every second.  What makes you think that a person you know may never be involved in an accident?  Accidents...suicides...either way, it is devastating.  I treasure each friendship I luckily have today.  I have deep sympathy for those who loses a dear friend, especially to suicide.  Whatever the case may be (suicide or freak accident), never take a friendship or a family member for granted.  The moon may settle with that special someone around, but the sun may rise with that life taken.

-- November 19, 1997    12:15pm  (side note: written two years after my friend's suicide)