“I called my cousin, I ended up talking to myself”. That was perhaps the most striking line I had seen in your diary. To be honest, I still wished that I answered your phone call.
My sister and I talked about you yesterday. The greatest regret was that perhaps you passed on not due to depression, but because of something absolutely preventable. In fact, we remembered how determined you were in fighting depression. We were very sure that we could help you, some way or another. We would and we will help you. Unfortunately things wouldn’t go that way.
My heart aches but it aches silently. Damn are the people who don’t seek help, they always say. But I knew how you thought of it. You could have called me one more time. My phone would always be there.
Does it pay to go off so early like that? What joy do you have. I tried imagining your pain from time to time. How you suffered in silence with your high fever. No one bothering you. You may have found this as a bliss, as you went off like that.
My family scolded me, and perhaps rightly so. You regarded me as your help line, unfortunately that help line was off that day.
This time round I’ll take the blame. This guilt may follow me all my life.
You know how ironic it is? On that Friday, it was our niece birthday. Everyone in the room tried their best to be happy. The celebration of life is perhaps the similarity between the two. We celebrate hers, and we celebrate yours.
The end of one cycle leads to the start of another.
Full circle. Life goes full circle.