One of my best friends committed suicide last night. She was my age. I'm in shock, everyone's in shock. She and I were best friends for 16 years--we met at the age of five, and were as close as can be. I believe friends can be soulmates, and she was certainly mine. In the last few months I'd become the main person she talked to--she was on her own and working--and was struggling with alcoholism and depression. Tried to help as best as I could, but it always feels like it isn't enough. I'm too shocked right now to feel anything. We had dinner last week and was texting Monday night--all seemed fine, no alarm bells or red flags. I know it's natural for those left behind to beat themselves up, and I'm doing that. Can't help it.
She was a big Stephen King fan, and I would occasionally tell her about you guys. She wasn't big into social media or else I think she might have joined here. Her favorite King book was Hearts in Atlantis, and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to read it again. It just feels like a part of me is gone, dead.
There are lessons and everything, and silver linings can always be found... today I was more appreciative of my family and friends and I was thankful to be here. I've been dealing with my own issues, as I've posted before. If anything, this has been sort of a wake up call. Maybe. Who knows.
I was told she left two letters: one to her parents and one to me. They have to be processed, though, so I can't read mine for a couple weeks. (Or so I heard.)
I'm too shocked to feel anything. I'm numb. She and I were going to see IT this weekend. The memories of the past decade and a half are flooding in, and it's all almost too much. Just keep her family, and my family, in your prayers. 2017 has been the year from hell.