Personal Narrative- Suicide Aftermath
Some thoughts sneak into our mind without our knowledge, and some thoughts are already in our mind without our knowledge. Music either triggers this knowledge, or it draws the already present knowledge to the surface. For example, this morning was like any other morning. I got up, made the bed, fed the dog, and brushed my teeth while she ate. I got dressed and took her potty after putting on the same blue leash I have put on her every morning since she was a puppy three years ago. Standing in the morning sunlight while she sniffed for the perfect spot, my mind was free of thoughts, or so I thought.
When she finished with her morning ritual, I took her into the house, gave her a pat on the head, and grabbed my running shoes. My mind was still empty as I walked to my car, hit the automatic unlock button, and put the key in the ignition. I turned the key one click and the electric system forced the radio to blast into my ears. Simultaneously, thoughts I wasn’t aware were there came to the surface as I listened to Cutting Crew sing “I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight.”
Damn one-hit-wonder-from-the-eighties-past music. I remind myself he is gone, and I have tried to grieve; it is time to move on. It has been fourteen years since middle school and eight months since he did it, and it is still right there. He is no longer here, but it doesn’t prevent me from feeling my love for him. I remember, and it stings because I cannot comfort myself with the idea that he is somewhere remembering the same shared memories I am thinking. I cannot comfort myself with the idea that he might sometimes still think of me. I can’t and don’t wonder if he is happy, or if he remembers how happy we were together at one time. All of those comforts are lost. I can only remember and know that my memories are recollected alone.
“It must have been some kinda kiss,” Cutting Crew continues with the song, and I know I should change the radio station. But, instead I see the gymnasium of our middle school. I was finally in the eighth grade, and it meant I had the permission of my parents to attend a school dance. I was excited and nervous. My arms were around his shoulders, and his hands were on my waist. I could feel his sweaty palms through the silky material of my sea foam green dress. I didn’t want him to take his hands away although I thought for a moment it would be nice if he would wipe some of the moisture from his palms. To enhance the romanticism of the childhood moment, I would like to tell you that our eyes were locked in an embrace, but I was staring at the ceiling (afraid to look him in the eye), admiring the blue and white crepe paper streamers. I didn’t realize he was trying to kiss me, until I felt his lips on my cheek. I turned to look at him, and my nose bumped his. It was awkward.
I didn’t get the kiss until a week later. It was Friday night, and we were playing kick-the-can at a friend’s house. Eddie and I were...