Today marks the 3 year anniversary of a good friend's death. Ever since the first soccer practice of the season in 7th grade (8th grade for her) we were pretty good friends. I remember that day almost perfectly. We were on the far side of the field throwing chest bounces and headers to each other. Being the ridiculous little girls that we were, we decided to give each other nicknames. We each had our own, but over time we both called one another 'Fufu'. Fufu and I had a great time together...we got in trouble together then volunteered together, gossiped together and went to the beach together. I knew Fufu had some problems, such as depression and bulimia, but I never thought it affected her the way it obviously did.
While volunteering away our troubles at the soup kitchen one morning, we made plans to go to the county fair that night. When time rolled around for her to come pick me up and she didn't show, I called her, left messages, and to be honest became quite frantic. I couldn't get in touch with her and that was just unheard of. Later I found out that she had gotten into a mysterious car accident on a back road. No other cars were around when she crashed into a tree. She had not been drinking or anything, but claimed to have reached down to get a CD and made a mistake. I still wonder, to this day, if that was not just an accident.
I became increasingly distant from her since the start of college, but I knew I could always count on her if I needed anything. Going back to my hometown during the first Christmas of my college career, I saw Fufu for the first time in a long time. It was so great to see her but, she looked thin and I could tell she was doing drugs. I knew she had kind of gotten into some bad things in college, but I knew deep down she was still a great person. That night I promised her after the party we would get together for some quality time. She called me that night, many times, to take me up on the offer. I was with my boyfriend, asleep, and didn't see the calls until the next morning. I never called her back.
3 years ago today, Fufu commit suicide.
Why didn't I step in and try to help her when she obviously needed it? Why didn't I just call her back the next morning? The last time I saw her she was drugged-out at a party.
But that is not how I remember her.
I remember her on the green-brown grass of the soccer field, long, black, frizzy hair pulled back in a pony tail, red Umbro shorts with a red and white t-shirt giggling each time she said 'Fufu'.
I remember her frowning at me in disgust when we had to put on hairnets and latex gloves at the soup kitchen.
I remember her white jean skirt covered in rust from using it to open apple flavored Bacardi-O at the beach.
I remember her as a great friend and nothing less.
Fufu, I bet you aren't reading blogs up there in heaven, but if you are...I love and miss you every day!
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2 comments:
I hope you don't blame yourself, because there is nothing you could have done. My husband and I were in a similar situation with a friend who called us numerous times one night, and we went to bed and didn't see the calls til the next morning when the cops were knocking on our door,since we were his last nine phone calls on his cellphone. We actually ended up splitting up after 13 years because we both blamed ourselves and we both took it extremely hard. We found out later on from his family that he had tried twice before to commit suicide, and no one had told us. To this day my now husband and I are still so saddened by this friends death.(2 years later we got back together and ended up finally getting married.)Be happy you had great times with her, and she was a great friend. Her memories of happiness helped her I'm sure more than you know. Trust me.
I agree with the comment above. Once someone has made up their mind, it's almost impossible to stop them from going through with it unless THEY want to change their mind.
Remember the beautiful times with her, and work on forgiving yourself for not calling her back. I'm sure she has completely forgiven you.
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