CW: Death of a child, suicide

My husband is reading the last Harry Potter book aloud to me and our son. (We were in the middle of it during the election, then put it away because it was too scary. It's still pretty on the nose but... life goes on.)

So he read the scene in which the death of Harry's parents is depicted. And it was like a blow. Harry's mom giving up her life for Harry... that's not a stretch. Many parents would do it, if they could. They're our hearts walking around outside our bodies, and we put so much into raising them and protecting them and desperately praying, please outlive me. And sometimes they take that life and throw it away.

(I'm aware this is not a kind or sensitive way to talk about suicide. I'm grieved and angry and I have to get those feelings out. Accept it or don't.)

When my son was little, one of the mamas I hung out with had a second baby. She was given a flower name, like her older sister. All the mamas organized and brought them food, and we couldn't wait for our turn to see the baby help out. She was beautiful and miraculous, as newborns are, and her head smelled like cinnamon buns. My husband and I freaked my friend out a bit, by how enthusiastically we smelled her head.

I lost touch with the group of moms but I still ran into my friend and her girls sometimes. I saw the girls performing in a teen improv show about a year ago. It was a lot of fun; they seemed confident and happy. I last saw my friend at open house day for my son's school, beacuse her younger daughter was transferring there. It's small and intimate, a good place for kids who are different and having a hard time.

But not always good enough. I have no knowledge of what this young girl was going through. My son doesn't connect with people in high school and he didn't remember playing with her as a kid, or make any attempt to get to know her again. All I know is either her mother (or God forbid, her sister) had to find her. That it was too late to help her. That everyone in my son's intimate school is reeling. That someone I care about is going through my worst nightmare.

Lin-Manual Miranda very appropriately called it the unimaginable. And yet I can't stop imagining it. How my friend breastfed, and homeschooled her daughters for years. How she spent so many years trying to do what's best for them. How she gave them names that go together, and she'll forever feel what's missing when she says her older daughter's name.