I don't like it when my heart hurts and there is nothing I can do about it. My heart hurts for Jen, for Aunt C. & Kirby, Beeper, and Uncle C. For Nona, Papa, and my Mom and Dad who have to be reminded of the painfulness of losing a child. My heart hurts to know that I knew this was coming, I sensed it a month ago, that she was not long for this world. I wish I could have told her how much I loved her before she left, that I always loved her, that she was always my favorite cousin. I am angry with her for not loving herself as much as I loved her, her mother, her brother, her grandparents, her stepfather, her aunt and uncle, her cousins, her niece and nephew, her stepchildren loved her. My heart hurts because she chose to commit suicide, but to do it slowly and publicly. We all had to sit and watch it take too long, helplessly knowing that she wanted to die and not being able to do anything about it. There were efforts made to reach out to her, to offer help, to give her a shoulder to cry on, a shoulder to lean on. She didn't want the help, and I saw behind her eyes that she didn't believe she deserved it. She didn't believe that those of us who are hurting today cared for her at all.
And I am pissed.
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