It’s the 4th of July, but there will be no celebrating for me. Ever since Kaitlyn died, I can’t celebrate anything. Not only due to my sadness, but because she is no longer here to celebrate anything. I can’t be happy right now, because she is gone. Not simply because she is gone, but because she found it too painful to live, so she ended her pain the only way she thought she could at the time.
It’s not only my loss and my being thrust into an endless pit of hot, burning grief that is so terrible. What is the most terrible to me is that Kaitlyn was robbed of celebrating any holiday ever again. She can no longer fulfill the life that she was destined to fulfill, because depression robbed her of this.
As sorrowful as her suicide note was to us, with her professing she was always sad, I think that the pits of her depression caused her to think that all her time was sad. Though, yes, obviously I was blind to her depression because she hid it so well, I do have to say that I was not blind in witnessing the happiness for which she pursued life. She was incredibly intelligent, but also had the gift of common sense. These are two wonderful things to have because sometimes people have one and not the other. I saw the joy she displayed whenever she accomplished everything she did. I saw the joy in her eyes when she finished a beautiful work of art, or completed a project with her nanny when she was young, when she so lovingly decorated her apartment, or completed creating a wonderful meal. I saw the drive and enjoyment as she went toward her undergrad years and the happiness she had when she was accepted into med school. Surely someone so driven, so success oriented, must have been happier than what she saw at the end. So I am extremely sad that depression robbed her of further happiness, of further accomplishment, of a husband, and a family and home one day. I’m bitter at this depression that robbed us of her and robbed her of her.
It breaks my heart into a million pieces to know the mental pain she was in so severely and how she worked to hide it from us. How awful and isolating it must have been to have kept it all to herself. I know she only wanted to prevent our worrying. What excruciating pain she must have been in to have laid down her beautiful, wonderful, life and self. This, to me, is worst of all. I grieve for the life that she lost.
As the layers of my safety numbness wears off bit by bit, I am thrust more and more into horrible grief and the horrible loss that happened here, as if it was not horrible enough before. The world lost a wonderful person, a future doctor. We lost a wonderful daughter that showed us there was still goodness and greatness in this world. But most painfully of all, she lost her beautiful, wonderful life. She deserved so much more than this. She deserved it all. She worked so hard for it. Depression cheated her from it. I am MAD at this horrible disease. I am never mad at her.
For her, all I ever wanted and what was so important to me, is for her to be happy and reach all the heights that her intellect and wonderfulness as a person would take her. It would have taken her very far; she was well on her way. But she can’t do that now.
I can’t celebrate anything now. I don’t know when I can celebrate anything ever again.