Five years

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post #1 of 109

1/27/08 at 9:55am

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Five years ago today, my 16 year old daughter took her own life. I'm no closer than I was then, to understanding why. I can offer vague supposistions, cite a few factors that may have contributed, but over all, I have no idea why she choose to die.

It hurts like hell, even now. They say time heals all wounds, but they lied. Time does not heal anything. You just learn to live with the shock, horror and pain.

Marrissa would have celebrated her 21st birthday on December 28th. Instead of a cake and candles, I stood at her grave in the biting cold and lit off 21 fireworks. I sang her the happy birthday song. I left flowers. And I cried all the way home.

All I have left is should have beens. She should have been X years old. Should have been doing XYZ. She should be the beautiful young woman she was becoming. I want to know that young woman, see her, touch her, smell her. I want to hear her laughter, her singing, her saying anything.

Five years ago, she walked out the front door knowing she would never be coming home again.

Five years later, I'm still waiting for the nightmare to end and have her walk through the door.

I miss her. I miss her so much.

Your question brought me to tears. Nobody really asks that anymore.. I feel so alone in my grief most of the time.

When she was born she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. HUGE blue eyes that seemed to drink in everything around her. She had a bit of brown downy hair that I would stroke as she nursed..

When she was a toddler she found a poufy tricot slip that she adored. She wore it day and night for years until it was threadbare and ragged. She's sit by the washer until it was clean and dry and wearable again. When we'd go somewhere, she'd carry it in a little bag with her. I can still see her twirling about, a thumb in her mouth, a finger twisting her hair, her slip flying up.

She used to load the wagon with rocks from the garden and sell them to people in the neighborhood. They always bought them. Nobody ever turned her away.

She made paper flowers and sold them as well. I know a few people who still have those flowers...

She loved snowball fights, hot cocoa and working on jigsaw puzzles.

She wrote poetry and short stories and my god could she sing! A week before her death she sang at a school pageant -all alone, no accompniment, just her and her little sister on the stage. She held Boo's hand and sang to her.

The memories are rushing through my brain, I cannot stop crying.

If I live forever, I will never understand why she left us. One of my biggest fears is getting old and forgetting her... As much as it hurts, I don't ever want to forget...

post #14 of 109

1/27/08 at 11:09am