Bee

These writings are dedicated to all that have struggled and all that have lost. I am not a writer. I am not a licensed counselor. I am a person who has experienced a great loss. I am sharing my experiences and my thoughts with you because maybe you need to hear it. Maybe you need to know that you aren’t alone.

Don’t read this if your sense of humor is not in tact.

Humor is sometimes all we have left, so don’t be a dick.

This is the beginning of my journey.

I just saw him…and so did everybody else in town.

I want to vomit or cry or scream. I think I’m doing all three while holding my two and four-year-old. I’m sure I’ve lost my legs, because I’m on the floor and the police officer with pink hair is just gazing down at me. She starts to lean in to help and then hesitates and backs up and looks away. She’s giving that standard expression of sympathy and “you’re totally fucked” at the same time. If I ever see her again, I will have to ask her if they taught that facial expression in police boot camp. 

His suicide letter, wait no, it was a text message, said something about pooping himself while dying. It also poked fun at my sleep farts. Why would he put that in a suicide letter? Why the fuck was he thinking about pooping and farts before he was going to commit suicide anyways?

Before I called the police and after I let the text message sink in, actually…lets be honest…none of it has sunk in. My skin still gets prickly thinking about it. In those first few moments, I had to still be a parent, and let my kids abuse you-tube while I put on my running sneakers and made a plan in my head. My plan was, I’m going to run to find him. I’m going to run across the entire town and find him and he will still be alive and I will talk him out of it. I’m going to run like the wind and everything will be fine. And then it clicked, I can’t run for shit. We had just started running a mile every other day and I could barely make it through that. Where the fuck was I even going to run? And what? Was I going to run with my kids on my back?

© 2019 by BeeCompassion

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