Love in the Time of Suicide
3 Years Ago Today. 7:49 pm
Dearest Michael,
I’ve never put into writing what happened the day I first visited the tracks after your death. The day I needed to face, head on, what I could not understand. The day I found what you left for me. The day I began to see.
I would like to tell you now.
It was Monday. I dropped the boys off at school and began heading south. I knew, as I was driving, that I wasn’t alone. I knew, in my heart, that I had to get to the exact location before I could gain even the smallest bit of clarity.
My navigation led me to the parking lot of the train station. I imagined you pulling in there, knowing of your intentions, as your father dropped you off. I felt numb as I attempted to park my car. Shivers and emotions began to infiltrate my space. Visions of you walking through there, alone, on that day, began to haunt me.
I took a deep breath and started walking. I learned of the exact point where you entered the station so I proceeded to follow in your precise foot steps. It was raining. You know how much I love the rain and the dark, soothing, comfort of such a day. This day was anything but comfortable, yet I was determined to find comfort from you somehow. I was bundled up in my favorite, oversized rain jacket and my NY Yankees baseball hat…
