The day before Eve's suicide was a Saturday, and I spent the day with
her. We went to the mall. It was turning cold, and Eve needed a new
coat for the winter. We went to JCPennies and I bought her a quite
elegant, black, ankle length coat for her, which she adored.
That night, before I went to bed, a depression had set in for Eve, and we
stayed up late talking and cheering her up. It worked, and I had her
laughing, and I thought I had found something new that maybe would keep
her intrigued about living for a while longer.
Eve came into my room about 4:00am to tell me that her depression was
really bad, and we needed to continue our discussion. I didn't hesitate
to get up and help, especially since this was a lazy Sunday and therefore
I did not have any need to be ultra-rested today. For the next three
hours I fought to cheer her up.
I have recently began to imagine my life with Eve with the following
metaphor. Imagine Eve on a sandstone or shale cliff wall, standing
precariously on a crumbling ledge. Every day I had the constant task of
repairing and reconstructing that ledge. And I always did so without
complaint or annoyance, because it was such a simple task for me and I
loved caring for her. People who would come by often stomped by and shook
apart my reinforcements, and I would jump to the task of repairing what I
could. Sometimes someone would pound past as if he were riding a
jackhammer, and the ledge would shake and Eve would stumble. And I would
catch her, and pull her back. Most of the damage would depart as quickly
as the offender. There was always other damage, however, that I could
never fix. I could only try to keep her away from those places.
Shale is so delicate, and cracks easily.
One thing I did well in my years with Eve was making her realize how much
I adored taking care of her. It was sometimes hard for her to believe
that, but I would always satisfy her doubts before the conversation was
over. Taking care of her gave me a purpose in life that I never had
before, and no longer have now. The little chores that this care
required were quick and rarely ever interfered with any projects or games
that I was involved in.
But with the ledge giving way now, Eve couldn't stand being a constant
burden to me anymore. To her, this would never get better. She no
longer had the willpower to be happy, let alone try make me happy.
Eve had to have one last smoke before she went to bed that morning. As
she kissed me goodnight before I went upstairs, she didn't let me know that
the ledge had finally given way.
She was already falling.