And you are gone

I see your smiling sweet face and eyes that I have known and loved for 23 years, sitting across the table from me at the Chinese restaurant we took you to the last day I saw you when you left to go back to medical school. I reach out to touch your hands and your image crumbles like a pile of ash and there is nothing there.

I feel you in my arms as I give you that last hug and smell your hair, wish you a safe trip back to your apartment many miles away, telling you to call when you get there. I see your black Honda Civic pulling out of the drive and see you waving bye to us and the image fades away before your car rolls a foot down the road. Vanished.

I see your image in my mind that span the 23 years of your short life. I feel the hugs you gave me as you lingered in my arms. I feel the love you gave so freely to me even during times when most teenagers push away. You never did. I hold you tightly in my arms, and then all of a sudden, my arms are empty.

I see you standing before me in your cap and gown with all the gold tassel, and medal that indicated you were valedictorian of your High School Class. I hear the words you said during your speech, so full of hope and happiness. I see you in your cap and gown when you graduated undergrad summa cum laude, I turn away for a second and you are gone. Caps and gowns lying on the ground.

I listen to all your hopes for the future, your love of medical school. I sit there amazed at all the things you’ve learned and I wonder how in the world anyone can contain all that knowledge in one’s head. I see you so excited and so happy telling me you were going to be a doctor and be the best at what you became, how doing this was what you were born to do. I see the light and happiness in your eyes. I still see you telling me these things at my kitchen table, or at the restaurant we would often take you to when we visited you. I pause for a second to take it all in, and your words are silenced and you disappear. Where did you go? What happened to the words?

I sit and I wonder what you are doing today, if you are in class or are able to listen to your lectures online at your apartment. I wonder if you have had your run today, or did you go to the gym. I wonder if I try to call you will you answer or would I get your voicemail. I wonder if I post something on your Facebook, would you comment back. I wonder if you are getting out and having fun in the midst of all your hard work. I pause during these wonderings and the need to wonder blows up like the eruption of Mt. St. Helens. Nothing but ash and smoke.

I see you standing before me Kaitlyn. I see how pretty you are; your pretty blonde hair, your fair skin, your delicate features, the way you held yourself, the way that anyone that looked at you knew without talking to you that you had a great depth and maturity in you. I see the body that you had developed into a very fit body within the past year and see the results of your hard work, though I always thought you perfect before. I see you before me, one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever known, feeling so blessed to have you for my daughter. Feeling everything important to you, was important to me. I see you standing there Kaitlyn, with an intelligence and wiseness I have always admired, knowing , without a shadow of a doubt that you would conquer this world on your terms, become a great physician, continue all your wonderful pursuits. One day when your life settled you would have time for your other talents; sewing, crocheting, drawing, writing. I see you, there you are. All the years of seeing you evolve and grow into the amazing woman that you have become. You are standing there in your jeans, your blouse and those beautiful black boots. Your pretty blonde hair starting to grow out now like you said you wanted it to do. You wanted your long hair back. I see your eyes, so full of life, light, and happiness. I see you looking into my eyes, into my soul, knowing how much I cherish you. I see you Kaitlyn, and then piece by piece, small blocks, like a digital TV losing its signal, pieces of you disappear until there is nothing left. Where you stood just a moment ago is an empty space. Before the last bit of you has disappeared I reach for you to try to bring you back, but my hands go through you, there is nothing left to grab hold of, and you are gone.

I go to your grave Kaitlyn and I feel that stone that is at its head. I touch it, it is hard, it is final, it will never disappear. Oh if I could only see it disappear and leave not even ash behind like it’s never been there, I would give my life. But it remains, hard stone and final.

I keep reaching for you Kaitlyn, I see your delicate hands reaching out for me to grab you, and at the last minute before I can touch you, you pull away and you are gone. And you are gone. Gone.


About gatito2

My name is Rhonda. I'm a registered nurse, for the last 20 years, that has not been able to work since the day I learned of my daughter's death by suicide 4-12-13. (She actually died 4-11-13 and her body was not found until the 12th) Me and my husband have been married for 32 years and he's a wonderful man. We grieve in different ways. He works, I write. This is my journey through this horrible land of losing a child..
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

16 Responses to And you are gone

  1. catecumen says:

    I wish that words could change things, but the words of others are so empty, while your words carry so much ….. (((( HUGS ))))


  2. gatito2 says:

    I wish my words could change the reality in which I live, but they can’t. Thank you for your kind words.


  3. Words will never help, but remember she is now your guardian angel, looking over you every single day!


  4. Carrie Lange says:

    love, love, LOVE this picture of her!


  5. Topaz says:

    My heart really aches for you, Rhonda. The images in your writing are so vivid. I think about and pray for you every day. Please let me know if there is anything else I can do for you.


  6. gatito2 says:

    Thank you Topaz. I’m really way down in the depths today. Way down.


  7. gatito2 says:

    Also Topaz, my writing today reflects the depths of which I’m in. She disappears before my eyes.


  8. gatito2 says:

    It is a good picture of her. It reflects a very happy looking person at the peak of her mental and physical life, the Christmas before she killed herself.


  9. Topaz says:

    Gosh, I am very, very sorry. All I know is that friends and family are great rescuers of those who are down in the depths. I’m sending lots of prayers and positive thoughts to you.


  10. gatito2 says:

    Reblogged this on My Bright Shining Star and commented:

    I wanted to re-blog this post here because it is the best description of what goes through my head almost every second of every day.


  11. SusanB says:

    When my son was in treatment, my neighbor’s son took his own life. After Nick died she amazed me with her compassion for my loss. Your grief has an edge that mine does not. What a terrible turn to your beautiful life. Your one shot in this world. For our children, they no longer hurt.


  12. gatito2 says:

    That’s the only good thing. They no longer hurt.


  13. Holly says:

    I’m so very sorry to hear about your loss, Rhonda. My words lack when it comes to bringing some type of comfort, but I send you my deepest condolences.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s