ONE

The thought of just saying good-bye and leaving behind all of my agony seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I exercised a romantic vision of death, not because I took my life for granted, but because something in my head told me I was not deserving of my life. It had me believing death would hold a freedom from the devastating pain I felt on a daily basis. I remember feeling so completely lost and broken and then I remember this darkness visiting itself upon me. I must word it this way to be accurate: visiting itself upon me. Because it was a darkness which existed solely with the intention of calling me to it with a song only my weakest self could be seduced into hearing.

Trying to convince people I was happy depleted me. At least in the darkness I no longer had to try and convince myself things were going to improve. My hope was extinguished. I was exhausted and welcomed not having to try any longer. I willingly became host to everything eating me up inside. The darkness was comforting and sadly made every negative thought I was having seem rational. It made every intention of death seem like an extension of love towards my family. I needed a doctor, but I found the darkness more affordable.

When David would come home from work to find me under the covers, I remember him being afraid to pull the blankets off of me. It did not help his mood, after a long day’s work, to find his 8 year old daughter sitting in front of the television eating Cheerios when she should have been in bed. Most husbands would have yelled, pulled the covers off and thrown me into a cold shower. They would have had enough. Years of mental detachment and steady emotional decline did not faze David. He was there for me in every possible way. He would have done anything for me and he loved me without bounds. This is what broke my heart: I believed I didn’t deserve him. He loved me completely. His love was so kind and perfect and pure; it was the kind of love all human hope is based upon. I never thought I would find such a love in my life.

The darkness supported the idea I was not good enough for him and made me feel both he and our daughter, May, would be better off without me. The idea stuck. Even during the years of psychiatrists, brain scans and trial medications the darkness remained. I was compliant with all requests and seemed to be much improved on the day I finally decided how to die. Everyone thought they were seeing a form of recovery. But what they were seeing was the relief of a woman who had finally made up her mind. I had chosen the idea of oblivion over all things important to me because the pain of my depression was too great to cope with any longer.

On the day I decided to take my life it was sunny and warm. I felt a sense of elation which was noticeable to my family. David and May both commented on how happy I seemed. To the outside world, I appeared to be well and balanced.

David’s mother, Nana Nettle, had decided that we should all have a picnic at the beach. Everyone was light hearted and ready to connect with all of life’s possibilities.

One of May’s poems had been published in her school’s newspaper. David had just found the perfect business partner, another Dermatologist with a holistic leaning who didn’t believe in promoting plastic surgery. And Nana Nettle had just received a marriage proposal from Tom Dunkirk, a man from a neighboring town she had been dating for the past year and a half. David’s father, Papa Nettle, had died five years earlier and David was thrilled to watch his mother discover love again.

Our picnic basket packed and ready, we climbed into the car. I sat in the back with May and listened to my family, letting their hopes and dreams wash over me. As I listened, I caught the eye of my husband in the rearview mirror and smiled.

When we arrived at the beach everyone jumped out of the car, but I remained for a moment to take one of the deepest breaths I had ever taken. It was time to face the ocean.

I walked slowly to my family as they laid out the striped towels and scattered the orange and blue buckets alongside the picnic basket. We had our lunch then made sand castles and after the mightiest part of the sun passed over us, everyone, except me, took a nap. The sounds of a family resting in the sun are the sweetest and most intimate. I smiled at my mother-in-law, kissed my husband then removed my gold chain from around my neck. I let it pour into May’s belly button as she slept. I didn’t want to hurt my family; I believed they would be better off without me. The darkness in my mind confirmed this belief.

As I walked to the water, my thoughts tumbled in my head and my body went stiff as I forced myself toward the ocean’s edge. I didn’t look back at my family. I pressed my body against the waves as I walked deeper into the ocean. Its force almost trying to protect me from myself. Each wave became stronger than the last pushing against me until I rushed past the surf. It had to be deep enough to drown so it would look like an accident. I was not the strongest swimmer and there was a rip tide. An accident time can heal; but, a suicide suspends all anguish. As my family slept I was swept away choking and gasping until my lungs filled with water. The first gasp was more from the surprise of actually going through with it. The second gasp was in despair as my body sank and only the tip of my finger broke through the water’s tension. The following gulps and spasms were in regret as my fingertip was the last part of me to feel the warm sun. I flailed and twisted as my lungs stung and my brain erupted. My last thoughts were of David’s and May’s beating hearts. And then mine stopped…