February 18, 2013 by workitmamma
A few months ago one of my oldest friends came back into my life. I found her after her name had been in the newspaper and whispered among mutual friends. Hello my beautiful, courageous, totally lost friend.
We met again and she told me about her amazing children, their lovely family home, her new baby boy and how her daughter Maisie had committed suicide at the age of 14.
It’s been a year today since she did it and the pain she feels is still raw to the touch. There is an unending supply of guilt and what ifs. No matter how many people tell her what a fab mum she is – and she really is – it doesn’t matter because her baby died in a way which leaves questions, many moments of unanswered agony and a sense of helpless disbelief which runs through her family, friends and beyond.
I remember Maisie as a baby and a toddler, a beautiful fuzzy-haired little angel adored by her mummy. I remember my friend and her unending ability to be an amazing mum without an equally amazing dad. Even in their tiny, slightly grotty first flat, she filled it to the brim with love and laughter.
I didn’t see her for years and she had three more babies in that time. When I’ve told people about her they’ve been shocked and saddened and said: “ Oh how terrible, thank god she has more children.” Yes her children have been a massive blessing and I’m sure they’ve helped her through but they’re not Maisie.
When I first went to her house when we met up again she talked openly about the dreadful day. She’d found her. It is beyond words. About the paramedics and her realisation Maisie was dead. She told me about the scene, reliving each moment as if she was trying to find the missing pieces of puzzle, the answers she needed. I read Maisie’s adolescent letters, so similar to teenagers all over the world, no obvious anger, misery or depression. I cried because I didn’t know what else to do. But she didn’t and I pulled myself together quickly.
My dear, dear friend, you are amazing, and forever changed. I have no doubt you will always be seeking answers, as we all would. If I could make you a medal from all the good wishes and love I’ve witnessed for you it would be the most amazing thing you’d ever seen.