Soon after moving this May I met a woman named Sara. We were introduced, I gave her a business card with my number and said I’d love to walk with her and her dog anytime. She texted me a day or so later and we were off. She lived pretty much at the end of my street, a 3 minute walk. She led me around the trails by my apartment, for an hour or two, almost every other day, and we bared our souls as only two strangers who feel a connection can. I told her about my break-up, she told me about her breakdown. We talked about families and friends and being in our 40s. We talked about apologies and lies and if we knew who we really were. We shared secrets that are hard to tell to people who knew you “then.” She was struggling with some major life changes, but seemed to be moving forward, making decisions, trying to be excited about having a life ahead that was commitment free.

Last Thursday I texted her, her family was in town, and I had been away for a few days, and wanted to make sure she was doing okay and if she wanted to go for a walk. She replied, and yes, a walk soon sounded good. She was counting down to everyone leaving on Sunday. She had a rock/gem collection and we had talked about taking some on our walks to leave for people to find. I was looking forward to stashing those on our next get-together.

Friday at noon I recieved a call. Sara had killed herself that morning.

No one I have talked with knows what could have happened between her watching movies with a friend  late Thursday night, and her decision that morning. No one was emailed. No note. And no sign that she was in the kind of anguish that meant this was her only choice. She was making plans. She had help. Energetically, I never once picked up on absolute despair. She’s a statistic now. And there’s a Sara sized hole in my heart.


14 thoughts on “Statistic”

  1. Wow, I don’t know what to say Abrah. All I can share is that what you wrote left me with a crushing feeling of loss for all concerned – her, you, her family and friends, the life she had ahead of her, your friendship together, and much more. I send love and healing your way. Please take good care, OK?


  2. thank you so much for sharing, Abrah. I wish people who are in such despair realized that they are usually surrounded by friends who would help in a moments notice. I am very sorry that Sara couldn’t see that.


  3. Awwww… I am so sorry. Thank goodness you were there to maybe just give her a little more time. To have a little more time with family? She might have needed your strength to be able to visit and say goodbye without, well, really saying goodbye. It’s so sad that some people just have so much heavy stuff on them that they can not shed or share or really ask for help about and then, well. May she has the peace she sought where ever she might be now, that she did not have here on this world. 😦


  4. Abrah, I am so sorry for your loss. She seems like she was a good friend to you & vice versa.

    Side note: Please be kind to yourself. Detecting that someone is suicidal is difficult, if not impossible. Some people are in a great mood after they make that decision/before they do it-I guess it’s like a weight has been lifted for them…
    Not everyone suicidal is like that, but it shows how complex this is.


  5. Abrah I am so so sorry for your loss. I hope you find some sort of solace under the weight of the pain. We are connected, and I am loving you.


  6. Abrah, I’m so sorry for your loss but I’m glad you were able to share it with us. When someone we share some time with commits suicide, we always wonder if we should have been more aware but I’ve come to realize it simply isn’t always possible. When people are in despair, knowing people love and care about them isn’t always enough.
    Take solace in knowing that Sara knew you cared enough about her to call her and ask how she was doing. Your caring voice was one of her last memories. Take care of your soul.


  7. Abrah, it took courage for you to write about Sarah – and you honored her by doing so, and by your lovely drawing of her.
    My niece’s husband seemed happy, even though he had great pain within, that he had been working on with counselors, and church. He ended his life 2 years ago, and my niece is still wondering how she could have “missed all the signs.” She is learning through counseling that there aren’t always signs, and that she isn’t a bad person because she couldn’t stop him even though she spent every single day with him. The living are left with so much hurt, and guilt, which is why skilled counseling is a Godsend. As Loretta said, take care of your soul.


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