It had always been my biggest fear, to lose someone that way, to not be there for someone I cared about when they needed me most. It's ripping me apart, but I will never let it happen again.
I can see him there, on the edge of the cliff, phone in his hand, asking me why no one saw the nobility in suicide anymore. We talk about seppuku, the ritual suicide of the samurai, the warrior's way out. He tells me about mass ceremonial suicides using poisoned wines, religious fanatics with bombs giving their lives for the promise of virgins in the next, volunteers for human sacrifice to arcane Gods. They can do it, why can't he?
I tell him he is pretty stupid sometimes, for being so brilliant. Doesn't he know how much I care, how much I enjoy having him in my life?
I can see him, wind tousled hair, standing there for a moment longer, hesitating, and finally stepping back saying, "Yes, you're right. And anyway.. I always lack the courage to jump."
Crying silently with relief, I tell him that I'm proud of him, that the courage is in living and I know he's courageous enough for that, and could he please come see me and give me a hug? I need to know he's really alright.
I taught him how to play ninja at an institute activity. I think we were both a little surprised at how well he did. It was so great to see him with a reckless smile on his face as he was caught up in the game. When the music started, I taught him the Boot Scootin' Boogy and the Sunflower.
He taught me how to find the truth inside of myself, and how to trust in it again. He believed in me so much, but never believed a single compliment I paid him, never believed how grateful I was for his friendship. ....How grateful I Am for his friendship. Tim continues to teach me, painful though the lesson is.
I remember teaching him how to pray, challenging him to do so everyday for a week, and extracting a promise that he would. I told him to ask to know that God loved him. I knew He did, but I wanted Tim to. A week later he confessed that he hadn't tried after the first night ended with him cursing, throwing out accusations, and asking God "Why?" I wept inside and begged him to try again. To my knowledge, he never did.
We talked often about God, sharing our different views. I tried to explain the loving father and his perfect son that I knew. He wanted to believe that they existed, but said everything in his life pointed to the contrary. He was so broken and scarred, so bare of hope, so small.
I knew what he needed. I knew only one person could help him. I wanted to introduce him to the missionaries so badly, but I was scared to tell him that the Lord didn't approve of his bisexuality. I was scared to ask him to change even though I knew he had to change to be able to be truly happy forever. His lifestyle obviously wasn't making him happy as it was. I was scared he'd push me away with everyone else.
We made plans, for when I got back from camp. I was worried, but I didn't think he wouldn't be there when I got back. He had been trying to get help. He had been meeting new people and making friends. It's excruciating to be wrong.
Timothy, I am so sorry that I didn't call when I needed you most. Christ loved you enough to ask you to change, I'm sorry I didn't know how to. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, to stop you again. I don't know what happens to suicide victims. I can only hope that you've found peace and truth. I can only pray that I'll get a chance to beg your forgiveness. I miss you.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Happy Again =)
I have been so incredibly selfish! I went to institute at a different place than normal today and our lesson talked about, among other things, forgiveness. During the flow of conversation, I wrote down two points: 1. If our sin causes us physical pain, what is it doing to our spirit? 2. When we harbor sin or guilt or pain we are not only hurting ourselves, we are hurting Christ.
See, Christ our savior suffered All pains, sorrows, and afflictions for us. Even the self inflicted pain, even the emotional scarring, he felt it all. How Selfish have I been to deny his comfort and to continue to live in pain when it hurts him as well? How arrogant am I to ignore his suffering on My behalf, to think that the atonement covers everyone but me?
This emotional pain, this severe depression, this darkness of self, is not just hurting me it's hurting Him. If there were ever a reason to forgive myself and others, it's that. If there were ever motivation to climb out of this pit, it's Him. And I know that it is only through him that I can.
Do you know how painfully beautiful this realization is? The worst part is that it didn't come as an epiphany, but as a "Well Duh Cora! Will you just choose to see it this way already?" It's my choice to come unto Him. It's my choice to bring him joy. I am so grateful that I can and I am so grateful that he told me how again.
I love my Savior and I am eternally indebted to him in ways that I cannot fully understand. It is because he loves me that I am who I am today and now, I'm remembering to give him that credit.
See, Christ our savior suffered All pains, sorrows, and afflictions for us. Even the self inflicted pain, even the emotional scarring, he felt it all. How Selfish have I been to deny his comfort and to continue to live in pain when it hurts him as well? How arrogant am I to ignore his suffering on My behalf, to think that the atonement covers everyone but me?
This emotional pain, this severe depression, this darkness of self, is not just hurting me it's hurting Him. If there were ever a reason to forgive myself and others, it's that. If there were ever motivation to climb out of this pit, it's Him. And I know that it is only through him that I can.
Do you know how painfully beautiful this realization is? The worst part is that it didn't come as an epiphany, but as a "Well Duh Cora! Will you just choose to see it this way already?" It's my choice to come unto Him. It's my choice to bring him joy. I am so grateful that I can and I am so grateful that he told me how again.
I love my Savior and I am eternally indebted to him in ways that I cannot fully understand. It is because he loves me that I am who I am today and now, I'm remembering to give him that credit.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Dreams
I had a dream last night. Elizabeth was alive. We were sitting on one of those couches that you can't help but love because they're so soft and comfy. There was a movie playing and we paid it little attention as we talked and laughed and behaved just like the young girls we were.
Waking and leaving that warm, comfortable friendship was terrible. The dream held everything that I can't seem to find in the waking world.
Waking and leaving that warm, comfortable friendship was terrible. The dream held everything that I can't seem to find in the waking world.
Pain
Today I had words inside me that had to come out, so I wrote them down.
Once, the pain that lives inside me like a beast slept, whenever you came near. Now your very name feeds his growing emptiness. All he knows is hunger; all he seeks for is nourishment. But the more he is fed, the more empty he gets.
He fears gentleness and fends of warmth. Love, he fights bitterly, knowing it is the only thing that can kill him even as it is the only thing that can give him rest.
That about sums it up. It lives in me. It's a part of me. And the insidiousness of it is that I cannot expel it for fear of what I am without it.
Once, the pain that lives inside me like a beast slept, whenever you came near. Now your very name feeds his growing emptiness. All he knows is hunger; all he seeks for is nourishment. But the more he is fed, the more empty he gets.
He fears gentleness and fends of warmth. Love, he fights bitterly, knowing it is the only thing that can kill him even as it is the only thing that can give him rest.
That about sums it up. It lives in me. It's a part of me. And the insidiousness of it is that I cannot expel it for fear of what I am without it.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
RIP Liz
The first time we really talked, she asked if I would share my pineapple. See, in the salad bar section of the lunch line had pineapple and I loaded two whole compartments of my tray with it. I knew I probably wouldn't eat all of it, so I gave her the spoon, I took the fork, and we split the pineapple. I admit, I had ulterior motives to sharing those golden bits of deliciousness.. See, most spectrum kids started in 3rd grade, and stayed with the same classmates until 6th. I had entered that year in fifth grade and knew one other person. I wanted a friend.
Fortunately for me, we were instant friends! We read the same books, and with the same voracious speed. We both enjoyed sneaking into the woodlet behind the school and pretending we were elves or wood sprites. We even tried making acorn-bread once, from the small nuts from the scrub oak. We shared everything: secrets, dreams, goals, study time, birthday parties, (our birthdays are 16 days apart), we even shared our crush. I remember having a competition to see who could write the tiniest and still be legible. As it turns out, we were both limited only by the thickness of the pencil lead. For a week after we completed all of our school work in tiny handwriting and had to correct each-others' work because we were the only ones who could read it as well.
All throughout 5th and 6th we were inseparable. Even when I left spectrum part way through the year, we e-mailed constantly, called often, and drove our parents mad with request to be driven to the other's house. Jr. high posed more difficult problems. We went to different schools, got involved in choir and orchestra, met new people, formed friendships, and gradually lost dependency on our friendship. High school sealed the deal, with my venture to nerd school, and we lost track of each other...
Fast-forward to July 3rd. It's the middle of the summer, Stephanie and I are preparing for a crazy-relaxing weekend because the coming week is family camp. This is the single most stressful, chaotic, and freaking crazy week in the whole summer. Looking back to the family camps I had endured under Gary's reign, I was expecting to be treated like dirt or dogs by family camp staff, to have absolutely no free time cooking for 800ish people, and to have to bite the head off of anyone dumb enough to cross me. For all my tough act, I was terrified. I had no idea what it would be like with Jeremy, and we had a new cook yet again, and I was already so tired, and how was I supposed to fix all the little things when Everyone was Always in the kitchen?? So for the weekend.. Oh yes, I was going to relax while I could.
We had just started dinner. James had been in a mood and it began to manifest itself again at the table. As usual, it escalated to a full blown screaming match between mom and him. All at once, I couldn't take it any more. I ran, bawling, to the tent John kept set up in the backyard. I couldn't handle the anger and the violence, and the noise for a moment longer. Twenty minutes later, Mom came outside and stubbornly I ignored her called until she said Stephanie was on the phone. I tried to compose myself, and answered.
She had news, and she didn't sound composed either. Deanne had called from work. Stephanie Green, also from spectrum had called in sick, because her best friend, Liz Harris had died. She'd passed away that morning. It was liver failure, from all the chemo, she'd been struggling with melanoma, did I know that? I felt sick. I knew it was true.
How do you describe that moment? That moment that you know you'll never see someone's smile again.. that moment when you realize her time here is done, over, ceased, gone... when you remember hearing she'd had skin cancer and calling her worried, only to be brushed off with a laugh "Simple operation, haha, don't worry, it's gone now." And that moment that you know how alone she must have felt sometimes, knowing it was getting worse, knowing she would die... But wait! Her fiance! You received the wedding invitation just that afternoon from your parents, it came weeks ago! Wasn't the wedding.. yes... Friday... How many of the flower ordered for a wedding will now grace a casket? She's 19! How could this happen!
Please Father, not another death! Not another funeral, not after so many...
Stephanie picked me up minutes after she called and took me to her house. I hadn't bothered to unpack anything anyway. We cried and cried. Stephanie knew her from Madrigals and they had been good friends as well...
Excuse me... I'll finish this later... I just can't yet.
Fortunately for me, we were instant friends! We read the same books, and with the same voracious speed. We both enjoyed sneaking into the woodlet behind the school and pretending we were elves or wood sprites. We even tried making acorn-bread once, from the small nuts from the scrub oak. We shared everything: secrets, dreams, goals, study time, birthday parties, (our birthdays are 16 days apart), we even shared our crush. I remember having a competition to see who could write the tiniest and still be legible. As it turns out, we were both limited only by the thickness of the pencil lead. For a week after we completed all of our school work in tiny handwriting and had to correct each-others' work because we were the only ones who could read it as well.
All throughout 5th and 6th we were inseparable. Even when I left spectrum part way through the year, we e-mailed constantly, called often, and drove our parents mad with request to be driven to the other's house. Jr. high posed more difficult problems. We went to different schools, got involved in choir and orchestra, met new people, formed friendships, and gradually lost dependency on our friendship. High school sealed the deal, with my venture to nerd school, and we lost track of each other...
Fast-forward to July 3rd. It's the middle of the summer, Stephanie and I are preparing for a crazy-relaxing weekend because the coming week is family camp. This is the single most stressful, chaotic, and freaking crazy week in the whole summer. Looking back to the family camps I had endured under Gary's reign, I was expecting to be treated like dirt or dogs by family camp staff, to have absolutely no free time cooking for 800ish people, and to have to bite the head off of anyone dumb enough to cross me. For all my tough act, I was terrified. I had no idea what it would be like with Jeremy, and we had a new cook yet again, and I was already so tired, and how was I supposed to fix all the little things when Everyone was Always in the kitchen?? So for the weekend.. Oh yes, I was going to relax while I could.
We had just started dinner. James had been in a mood and it began to manifest itself again at the table. As usual, it escalated to a full blown screaming match between mom and him. All at once, I couldn't take it any more. I ran, bawling, to the tent John kept set up in the backyard. I couldn't handle the anger and the violence, and the noise for a moment longer. Twenty minutes later, Mom came outside and stubbornly I ignored her called until she said Stephanie was on the phone. I tried to compose myself, and answered.
She had news, and she didn't sound composed either. Deanne had called from work. Stephanie Green, also from spectrum had called in sick, because her best friend, Liz Harris had died. She'd passed away that morning. It was liver failure, from all the chemo, she'd been struggling with melanoma, did I know that? I felt sick. I knew it was true.
How do you describe that moment? That moment that you know you'll never see someone's smile again.. that moment when you realize her time here is done, over, ceased, gone... when you remember hearing she'd had skin cancer and calling her worried, only to be brushed off with a laugh "Simple operation, haha, don't worry, it's gone now." And that moment that you know how alone she must have felt sometimes, knowing it was getting worse, knowing she would die... But wait! Her fiance! You received the wedding invitation just that afternoon from your parents, it came weeks ago! Wasn't the wedding.. yes... Friday... How many of the flower ordered for a wedding will now grace a casket? She's 19! How could this happen!
Please Father, not another death! Not another funeral, not after so many...
Stephanie picked me up minutes after she called and took me to her house. I hadn't bothered to unpack anything anyway. We cried and cried. Stephanie knew her from Madrigals and they had been good friends as well...
Excuse me... I'll finish this later... I just can't yet.
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