Take It Day By Day Sister's Perspective

I've always been someone who enjoyed research and using logic to explain situations. Deborah's death is something I can't even explain no matter how desperately I try to. That has been my down fall.

I know from reading testimonies of other families who lost someone to suicide, some of them did not even receive a final letter. Many of them wish they received a note to explain even a fraction of the situation. Having received a note of my own, I wish I hadn't. In my final letter, Deborah gave me a small glimpse of how incredibly sad she was. It breaks my heart to have read that and have that memory permanently ingrained in my mind. She knew I would understand but I don't think she thought about the toll her letter would take on me emotionally.

We talked about worldy issues when she was alive. We'd talk about the goals we had for the week and how we planned to accomplish it. I would recommend books that I recently read that I thought she would like. We even had a few 'book' clubs where we read chapters together. We'd listen to music with one another and sometimes even sneak into each others rooms to find out what music the other was listening to. We were both often stubborn about telling each other the name of songs. Now there are those apps where you can find out the name with the click of a button. She told me about those apps.  Then we'd have serious conversations about feelings and----you'd think I would have saw a sign that she was contemplating taking her life. I didn't. When we talked about sadness and insecurities I knew glimpses of her true feelings. I knew she was having difficulty being comfortable out in public. I knew that she felt some of her friends were slowly creating separation since she was hospitalized. And I knew when she would cry to me at home or in the doctors office that she was depressed.  I reassured her that it would get better. I told her to hang in there and suggested many things to do to occupy her time. I even spent a few times a week at the Dollar Store with her, watching her purchase storage containers and kitchen utensils for her future place. She looked a lot better in the last 2 weeks of her life. She said that she finally felt like herself again and I believed her. From the many tears shed at the doctors appointments and in my bedroom, she was laughing again. Then the 18th came and she walked into my room. She wore her grad sweatshirt and said she was off to work in a bit. She said she wanted to do something with me after work, said I love you and left.

One day can be a very good day. The next day could be a terrible one. That's the only explanation I have right now.