You know, I’m sitting her rather down tonight. I’m always down but the prevailing thought that has been entering my mind in increasing abundance is this: Kaitlyn exuded happiness and the specialness of an extremely unique, gifted, kind person. I loved her with my whole entire being. For 23 years we shared such a strong bond. I can’t say I knew everything she did in her life, especially when she went away to college, but we still held a close bond. A bond not many people are fortunate to share. I’ve not had many close friends in my life. I guess it’s because I hold such different interest than most women, or maybe I don’t try hard enough, maybe it’s because I’m an introvert, who knows why, but I shared a beautiful bond with Kaitlyn, one that is hard to explain and almost impossible to experience even once in a lifetime.
Then I find out in her suicide note that she has been sad all her life. For me that puts a different light on all the scenes of her life and our time together just she and I and our family. What does that mean? All those happy times were not real? They felt too real for them not to be. Her “occasions of happiness” screams out at me, the ink of those words on that letter burrowing into my brain like a hot poker.
Losing her was horrible beyond words, but knowing she was sad all her life is almost unendurable. I would have given my life to make her life happy.
How can someone so depressed give other people so much happiness? It’s a mystery that I cannot figure out.
Was it real Kaitlyn? It had to have been. My life depends on it.