History of suicide by Jill Bialosky

This is sad book. I am not sure I liked it but I learned from it. These are the words I want to remember: I now live in two realms: the realm of the ordinary world of getting up in the morning and making coffee, answering the phone, and going to work, the world of traffic and noise and obligations: and the realm of stopped time where my sister is dead and I was shrouded in confusion of her loss. I do not know how we are going to survive Kim's death but I also knew that grief was private and a journey each of us would have to make alone. You are tired of living, and you say : life is an evil. Sooner or later you will be consoled and you will say: life is good. you will be closer to the truth without reasoning any better: for nothing will have changed but you. That being so change right away, and since all the evil is in the ill disposition of your soul, amend your disorderly affections and do not burn your house down to avoid the bother of putting it in order We do not want to comprehend that people may and do die of emotional pain, and recognize the terror in ourselves when we cannot seem to help someone in despair-- when our words are empty. My soul is oppressed with the weight of life. For a long time it has been a burden to me: I have lost everything that could have endured it to me, only the sorrow remains to me. Speak to my heart: I am ready to hear you but remember that despair cannot easily be fooled. The DMS-IV ( diagnostic statistical manual of psychological disorders) calls this condition post-traumatic stress syndrome. But I prefer to call it simply disbelief. There are certain things in life for which we can never be prepared. I do not know how David was able to made me laugh again. I don't know how we had the courage to embrace hope. Nothing in fact, actually dies: everything goes on existing, always. No power on earth can obliterate that which has once had being. Every act, every word, every form, every thought, falls into the universal ocean of things, and produces a ripple on its surface that goes on enlarging beyond the furthest bounds of eternity. The most mysterious part of grief is that you think you can will it away. You can refuse to think about it. In one part of your mind you can hold it, but sometimes you have to let it go. You often war with it. You grieve for a lifetime because those we love are a part of us even after they have left us, even after they have betrayed us, and our love for them, by taking their life with their own hands. Some times grief comes to visit again like a long lost friend. It is mysterious, but never take it for granted. Get to know it well as you know your best friend. In moments when I should have been happy, I sometimes fretted. At times, in secret, I succumbed to periods where I wanted to spend mornings sleeping or lingering in the bedroom, sometimes almost paralyzed by a heaviness and mysterious fatigue that would not lift. At times I viewed the world darkly: isolated and consumed by a sense of foreboding, I thought the only those who had experienced the loss of a loved on could understand. During those periods it was as if I was only going through the motions of living. Time doesn't really heal, it only makes living more bearable.