In Memory Of Dusty.I had a friend that I knew in elementary school. She had as an active imagination as I did growing up, and I still remember some of the games of "house" that we played and the stories of block castles that we came up with. Public school being public school, if you weren't in the same class together, you couldn't really socialize with other kids outside your home room class. So me and Dusty lost contact.
It wasn't until the 8th grade, the end of middle school, that we were able to connect again. We met during lunch time and kinda looked at each other saying, "Hey! I know you!" laughed and just started talking about school and teachers and projects.
We were not "best friends" but we were friends, and we were steadly growing closer. I knew something was wrong, because of the way she talked and how she told me how much she liked giving herself pain by cutting the backs of her legs. At the time, just about every middle schooler I knew was experimenting with cutting in some form or fashion, so that didn't alarm me so much as the look in her eyes as she was talking about it. How sad she was. I had hoped that by talking with her, paying more attention to her, and questioning her about normal things; things to get her mind off of being so sad; would help her situation.
I never questioned about what was making her sad. I tried to avoid bringing up uncomfortable subjects for her.
In April, 2003, she strangled herself. I never knew what the situation was that led her to choose death. Nothing was ever explained. It was during 2nd period of school that day when the announcements came on and gave the news of Dusty's death and asked for a moment of silence and prayers for the family.
Part of me feels I should have done somthing, asked more questions, be more attentive, somthing. Maybe then she would have been able to hold out longer, deciding to live instead of die. I know there was nothing I could have done. I only saw her during lunch periods and even that wasn't on a regular basis. And perhaps the time I did spend with her and the questions I did ask, did indeed help her hold on in some way. I don't know and will never know the truth about her thoughts, feelings, and the situation she was in.
If there is such a thing as a spirit or a soul, I hope her's is at peace.
Wistina 22-25, F 2 Responses 2 Aug 5, 2012