More on loss.

Two weeks ago today my life changed. I was offered my first salaried position ... and in my field!

A few hours later my joyous news was eclipsed by an update of another variety. I found out an old friend died by her own hand.

She was actually my sister's best friend from childhood, but a friend of the family as well since she practically lived under our roof. I assume that as an only child she enjoyed the chaos of our four-kid household in the seventh-circle of hell. At least someone appreciated it as the insanity unfolded.

We treated her like a sibling. I'm sure I provided plenty of eye rolls, and my brothers teased her and received a good amount of playful tormenting back. She traveled to our cabin with us, stayed for dinners and participated in family time. Though I can't bring forth specific memories, I can see her charismatic smile as though she were standing right in front of me. That smile radiated joy, but also hinted at mischief.

This young woman and my sister got into a lot of trouble together while in their late-teens. My sister broke away, but not without a fight I might add. Her friend struggled harder to do the same. I can't claim to know where she was in that battle. I do know a lot of people worried about her and cared for her, including the young daughter she left behind.

The entire situation simply breaks one's heart. I hoped I'd never hear of, let alone personally know of another person who took her own life. I prayed to never have to sit in a church again watching everyone weeping, asking themselves what they could have done, questioning why it happened. And this time was easily the worst. My mother. My sister. The young woman's parents. The church full of people in shock, all touched by this tragedy in a different way.

I can't quit thinking about any of them, or about her. I think about those final moments. As she slipped away, did she panic and change her mind? Did she cry out for help? Is there anything anyone could have done? We can't know. We can't torture ourselves with such questions.

Although I understand that she was tired of the struggle, I wish she could have known the pain would stop--that it wouldn't go on forever. I long to be able to tell her how good it can get and how little steps in the right direction can feel amazing. I know others think similar thoughts about how they could have helped out to her.

While we can't turn back the clock, we can know that we have the opportunity to reach out to the people in our lives--strangers, friends and family alike. We can bring others joy and give them support. But ultimately, we can't control what they chose to do.

Unfortunately, after hearing of a stranger's very public suicide, last fall I wrote this.