Eight Months

DISCLAIMER: As I said in the post before this, here is my most recent letter to Rory. Please don't read if you don't want to. It may not be helpful for everyone to write letters to people who can no longer read them, but just writing them has been very theriputic for me. If you are up for it, I suggest giving it a try. I have just made the choice to share them with others. I did add "The loves and hates of Rory" if you would only like to read that at the end of the letter. I hope everyone is healing the best they can.

Dear Rory,

You've been gone for 7 months now. It seems like years some days and others it seems like I just saw you and we were chatting about something. We spread your ashes Thursday, July 24th and I was quite numb about it. We have some too. Part of me thinks taking the ashes was a good thing and another part doesn't really care. It's not you. You are gone. This is the physical piece that we are holding on to. We will put it in the ground for closure I guess.

There are days where I have to remind myself that you are dead. I have to remind myself that I will never talk to you again. Never is a hard thing to grasp. I don't know that I can. On the days that I come close to knowing what never is, I get angry. Angry at you and your disease. I get angry because I have a hard time accepting your choice. I don't know what was going on in your head, so I can't say that you should have kept trying. I don't know what I would have done if I were you.

The mother in me wants to hold you and tell you that everything will be ok and do everything in my power to help get you through your hard time. The same that I will do for my own children. I think I am mad because you didn't want any more help. You were tired of help. You were tired of not feeling "right."

I don't know what everyday life was like for you. I know that I didn't like feeling as if I had no control over my actions or own everyday habits. My depression is so much different than what yours was. My depression doesn't consist of suicidal thoughts or death in any form. I do know that I hated that Brian was worrying about me and that he felt helpless. Just him being there for me was enough and I don't think I was able to express that to him at the time.

I wonder if you would have found someone to live for if you would still be here. I wonder why me, Brian, Paul, Karen, Hannah, Mary and many others weren't those people. Then I have other thoughts of how happy I am that you wern't involved with anyone because love or no love, this action of suicide was inevitable. I thank God many days that you pushed certain people away so you wouldn't hurt them even further than you already have.

I feel that we do go on to another place when we die. I don't know if all of us go there for not. I do feel like there are certain kinds of people that don't belong there. Maybe some people deserve to suffer once they are gone. You had to suffer while you were here, so I don't think, just because you chose to end your life instead of leaving it up to some higher power, that you were not saved like you said. The kind of Creator that I believe in wouldn't let you go anywhere else.

It's hard to tell others you killed yourself. Then if they happen to ask how - the reaction is always the same. If I tell people that you're gone and that you had bi-polar disorder, again the reaction is the same. People can't help but have a certain stereotype about those going through depression. In turn, I go into defense mode and start to defend my friend who took his life just as many others defend false stereotypes. 

I don't know how to end this letter. I don't have anger. I have sadness. I don't know how to accept. But I can understand. Like before...

I love you. I miss you. And I hate that you are not here.

Yours,

Gina

Something extra...The Loves and Hates of Rory.

Hate

• Your disease
• Your mom
• Your love of "The Streets" music
• That you are dead
• When I am angry at you
• Your vocabulary
• The way you used to make me explain my reasoning
• That you needed to eat with backround music on

Love

• Your charm, wit and sarcastic undertones
• Your laugh
• Your hair
• The hilarious messages you used to leave on our machine
• The way you could never take a normal picture
• Your hugs when you were well enough to give real ones
• That you always had to remind Brian that you didn't like mint flavoring or cheese...except on pizza of course