A Year of Remembrance: R.I.P. Monica

As we approach the new month I sit here and experience a great deal of emotion. These emotions sit with me like a dog sits with his master: Loyal to routine and yet able to break at the sound of a dropped pin.

-In the next few days I will experience moments I never would imagine or wish upon any.

Looking back on February 4th, 2015, I remember the moments leading up to and directly following, but there was one moment, probably a just a few seconds long, that have been erased from my memory.


I had texted my Aunt in New Hampshire for her to wish her husband (my uncle) a happy birthday. Her reply: “Have you talked to your mother today?” — Now as you’ve read in my previous posts, my mother and I don’t necessarily chat on a daily basis, so– No I haven’t, why? —For some reason, and to this day I will never know exactly what it was that gave me that pit in my stomach feeling, but I knew something bad had happened.

“Monica passed last night.”

–Now in those few seconds that I have erased from my memory– my brain had to process a whole lot. Monica. Monica. There’s only one Monica that my aunt could be talking about. Monica. My cousin. Monica. My sixteen year old cousin. Monica. Monica. Oh my God. Monica .. died. She died? She’s gone? Oh my God. What happened?

Now. Again, I’m not sure how I processed everything so fast, but I had known what had happened before my aunt ever replied back to me. Monica had made the choice to die.

–I remember reading that text. “Monica passed last night.” I read that text about a hundred times within one minute. Was I reading this right? Yes. Yes I was. I remember getting up from my chair–(I was at work). I grabbed my keys and phone and went into the bathroom. I went into a stall, locked the doors behind me, and leaned up against the wall. Sweating–shaking–I didn’t know what to do, where to go, what to say.

I immediately walk back into my office, afraid that I’d pass out in the bathroom and no one would find me. I see my supervisors door is shut. I walk back to my office. I sit. I stand. I smile as people walk by and say hi. Finally, I pick the next person I see in their office and I walk to it. Still shaking.

Sabine? Can I talk to you? –Immediately, the tears roll down my face and I am in utter disbelief of the words I am about to say aloud. I  just  found  out  my  cousin  died  last  night.  She’s  sixteen. 




Suicide is the one type of death I had never experienced. I had lost people to accidents, health issues, old age; I had lost aunts, uncles, grandparents, friends, neighbors, my father for God’s sake– but never had I lost someone so young. Never have I had a death effect so much. Never has a death happened so unexpectedly and by a fixable source.

Losing someone to suicide is so fucking painful.

Until Later,

Dani

If you or someone you know is feeling suicidal, please reach out 1-800-273-TALK (8255).

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