Someone I don't know might have died this week.
Someone I don't know might have died last week.
Someone I don't know quite likely died the week before.
They all lived in places far from me.
My only familiarity with them was what they wrote in ash.
For all I know they don't really exist. And yet...
Ash is a refuge that I treasure. Ash is a place where I can speak the truth about wanting the pain to stop, about wanting to end my life.
But there's something I hadn't counted on and something that I need to come to terms with. It's that being involved in ash means that I risk caring about someone I may never meet (or even if I do). A someone who is suicidal and serious enough about it to be here. A risk of loss. It's a lesson in letting go that we want those who are remotely close to us to learn, but it's not an easy lesson. I'm discovering (again - this is not the first time that I've pondered this) what the survivors of our ended lives have to go through. Sadness. Sadness that we need this place and sadness about the circumstances that drive us here, and drive us on past this place.
Also there's a hope that those who have crossed that line have found peace. To those who have left, I hope you are at peace. (And I very much wish you could tell us that.)
Last update: Monday, January 25, 1999 22:50