Suicide Diary.

In The Moments Prior.

I found the sweetest love songs falling from his lip, as though honey filled the gaps in his teeth. Memories of all the days that flew past him on the breath of Autumn. What lies ahead finds a dreadful home on his fingertips. But though what he felt lay upon the surface, he buried his reaction deep. For while the wound was visible for all to see, the blood and pain rest under the skin, in hopes that if no one knows how close the wound is to the bone, no one would waste their time by pouring salt inside.

It felt to us another day, a soulful hug and a joyful hello. Knowing every hello mattered so much more. It felt to him like fleeting goodbyes. Knowing that hellos were limited and forgettable. And while we found the hours in between, he held onto the seconds. Grasping the clock’s hands in what felt like a desperate attempt to slow them down.

While we hadn’t yet felt the need to grieve, he had started the process. He grieved the fresh air of the spring bloom. The bees buzzing like the static of an old tv. He grieved the vibration of the car speakers, and his arm hanging from the window. He grieved the smiles on his daughters faces, their laughs, their tears, their insatiable arguing. He grieved the unfortunate truth of not meeting them at their brightest, and of not knowing the person they’d become in the years of his absence.

He grieved his love story, grasping his wife’s hand as though letting go would hurt more then the sickness that consumed him. Hugging her from behind, knowing that facing her would only cloud his mind with a hazy fog of sadness. Understanding that any moment that they shared together, could very well be his last.

And so if you never say goodbye, does that still mean you have to leave?

As time grew more valuable, things became more forgettable. Were birds chirping that morning? Was there the usual morning traffic? Did the house still smell of coffee and cigarettes, even after his absence? Was the door locked when we left? Did we feed the cat or let the dog outside? It felt as though we were trapped in a speeding car that only grew faster by the second. The world became blurry and unrecognizable at the morning's start.

The thoughts poured in, but one in particular haunted and echoed my mind as I wondered what it was he thought about in his final moments. Was he thinking of the first time he held me? Or was he thinking of the last? Was he scared in those fleeting seconds? Or did he accept whatever was to come?

The rest of that morning felt disconnected from reality. For what he had felt in the months leading up, we now felt all at once as he lay to rest.

For I am but a fragment of him. A shard of who he was. And on the morning of May 19th, 2017, I became one of the only pieces left.

~Toxic.