By Blake Dykes
Names of the people in this story has been changed for privacy reasons.
You hear about people dying because of car accidents, shootings, and fires. It never occurred to me until this incident that someone would actually take their own life.
It all happened Sept. 17, 2007.
I start the day off waking up bright and early, even before I need to get ready for school. That is typical for me, waking up so I can get dressed in time to watch an episode of Spongebob before heading off to school. However, today is different.
I stumble into the kitchen, wiping the sleep out of my eyes, waiting for my mom to give me my cheerful morning greeting.
Not today. Instead, mom gazes out the window into the neighbors house. I decide to break the silence.
“Good morning, Mom.”
Mom draws her head away from the window just long enough to give me an emotionless glance.
A feeling of dread boils up in my stomach.
I tiptoe to the window at which my mom is staring out of. That is when I know something horrible has happened.
Multiple cars are parked up the driveway of the house next door. A fire truck, ambulance, and two police cars are also entangled in the chaos. People gather in clusters by the double door garage.
“Mom, what’s going on?” I hear myself ask in a hushed whisper.
“It’s Kelly,” she says flatly.
My brain instantly rushes with a hundred scenarios.
Kelly is the woman next door, in her late 30’s. She also has a husband and son. Kelly is suffering from depression and is very socially withdrawn. At all the neighborhood get-togethers everyone in her family comes, except her.
“Did something bad happen?”
I frown at myself for asking such a stupid question.
Mom nods and takes a breath, “Kelly…passed away.”
My heart speeds up to an explosive rate, a rage of panic and unexplained anger wash over me.
“How? What do you mean? She was so… young,” my voice fades off.
Mom is silent.
I begin my questioning,
“A car accident? Fire? Was she…murdered?”
Mom shakes her head to all of my proposals.
I feel very confused.
“Kelly hung herself.”
She seems to think about what she is going to say before she continues.
“This morning around five.”
The remaining time before catching the bus seems to drag by in a blur.
This morning, mom walks me and my younger brother to the bus.
As we are walking up the road, to the bus stop, I hear something that will scar me for the rest of my life. Max’s, Kelly’s teenage son, shrill sobs coming from his cracked bedroom window. My heart aches for him.
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Hours turn into days, days into weeks, and weeks into months. As the time passes the grass next door continues to grow into a jungle. Kelly’s husband and son up and left the house. They left everything in it, the only thing they took was the clothes on their backs.
There is an eerie quietness throughout the neighborhood. It seems as though everyone is afraid to move on with their lives, afraid to even laugh.
As for me, I have been affected by this tragedy in a drastic way. I dread sleeping, my dreams have turned into nightmares. Suicide has poisoned my dreams, making me have the same nightmare every night, reliving that September 17 morning. These horrifying thoughts lead me into seeing a counselor to learn to let it go. It took me two years to recover from that horrific day.
I guess, the most important thing I hope for people to gain from this story, is to realize suicide is the most selfish act someone can commit. Kelly left this earth leaving her family devastated, confused, and angry.
Next time you are kidding around and say,“Ugh, I hate homework, I’m gonna shoot myself.”
Realize what you are saying really does happen and is not something to kid about.
