She wonders if his pain ever showed.
Did he ever give a hint?
She remembers all the good times spent.
Did he ever speak of his heart?
Her entire life was torn apart.
She remembers his smile,
Her tears fall for a while.
She remembers his voice,
But mostly his choice,
To end his life, if only he knew,
That this was her greatest fear come true.
Her heart so full of unspoken love,
He would not meet her in heaven above.
Then the clouds release the rain,
She feels no more, his unspoken pain.
Alone he'll feel the terror below,
As she stares blankly out the window.
***I wrote this poem about 7 years ago. I was a broken 17 year old. When i go back and read through my old work, I tend to only see a depressed little girl with an immature writing style. This poem, while still depressing, is different. This poem was written with true emotion.
When i finally returned to school, about a month later, my best friend couldn't even look at me. The only words he could speak to me were simple: "Life is a bitch. Get a fucking helmet." So i tried. I started paying attention in class. Started going out with friends again. and eventually, the pain was all but gone. If you know how depression works, it never truly subsides completely, but it isn't always at the front of your mind either.
A few short months later, that same best friend did the unthinkable. We came back from thanksgiving holiday and he was no where to be found. i figured he just didn't feel like school that day, as he sometimes didn't That is until i saw my boyfriend and the look on his face. Something was wrong but he wouldn't tell me. I went to class and tried to put it out of my mind. Inevitably i ended up wandering the halls during that class and ran in to the same friend who noticed something was wrong the day i swallowed the pills. She realized i had no clue what had happened and clued me in. My best friend, Jeffrey Scott Minster, had taken a shot gun blown his brains out. Sorry if that's graphic but i want you to understand how shocking it was to hear that. It was like time stopped moving. Everything went black.
This poem is about the aftermath of Jeff's choice. My world crumbled down around me. and it took several years for me to really be able to let go. As I've written in previous blogs, this kind of pain never goes away. I lost the two people closest to me. And even though it has been 8 years since Jeff, and 3.5 since Mike, it may as well have only been a day.
This is cliche, but it is also a fact: Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. IT GETS BETTER! Don't give up before the challenge has even begun. Even if you think no one would miss you, i promise you someone will. Jeff's selfish decision shattered the lives of his family, and our entire group of friends. And i have to wonder if he ever actually gave a damn about any of us. I know that the suicidal thought process makes you believe that by ending your life you are doing everyone a favor. But that is wrong. You are doing no favors. You only think that because you cant pull yourself out of your own head. Talk to someone. It is the hardest thing you will ever have to do, but you HAVE to give that pain a voice! If you don't it will consume you. If you truly care about the people you think would be better off without you, then give them the chance to be there. Jeff didn't give any of us the chance.
The last point i want to address in this poem is the reference to Heaven and Hell. I was raised to believe in those places...but maturity has shown me that i don't actually have any way of knowing if they exist. In fact, I don't believe they do at all. I believe that this life is the absolute only one we get. When it is over that is it. You die. There's nothing afterward. So you can either make an impact with the time you have, and be remembered, or you can be nothing. Your memory will die with the people who knew you. The choice is yours.