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RE: Flower In The Snow - A Suicide Story
Thank you for reading it.
One thing a friend of mine told me once about when she had gone through her own very dark time, someone came to her house when she was in a really bad funk and made her make a cake for her neighbor. She told me that the simple act of doing something for someone else helped her. We all need to try to remember that.
I'm reminded of a time when my parents owned a bar in a pretty bad neighborhood. I was 17 or 18 at the time bartending and a man came in. I recognized him as a patron but hadn't seen him in a long while...and he looked terrible. Pale, too skinny. You got the sense he was dying...and the sad part is, he was. In the early 90s, AIDS made you an untouchable and I dared to hold his hand and just talk to him. Found out it was going to be his birthday in a few days and I made him promise to come back on that day. I baked a cake and we shared it with all the patrons. He died less than a month later but one of the last things he told me was that it was the nicest thing anyone ever did for him. It broke my heart.
To this day I remember his name. SEAN.
To this I would ask you, when you write about your aunt - and I really hope you do - tell us her name. You are her living legacy and the keeper of her stories - good and bad, okay?
Dammit, I thought I had everything all neatly put back away and you had to go and say that! lol
I don't know if I will write about her again, but I will keep that in mind.
Um...
LOL
In truth, I have a very hard time writing stories about my dad. It takes a toll on me, and usually a box of tissue...and a day to recover from the emotional roller coaster. I get it.