If I Had Only...: Poetry

She took her life on a Sunday.

......What was I doing that day?

The shades were drawn closed in her bedroom,
Though the sun shone brightly behind.
She was shutting out the world for the last time.

......Had I called her on the phone that week?

Her letters were written; her dishes were washed.
The fish had been fed and bid goodbye.
She took one last look and lay down in her bed.

......Surely she knew how I loved her...?

Seven amber bottles stood at attention on her nightstand.
A glass of cool water was beginning to drip sweat,
As if anxious and impatient to serve.

......Why hadn't I seen the true nature of her despair?

As she swallowed her pills, several at a time,
She felt the sting of tears on her cheek and paused.
She really hadn't expected to cry.

......Oh! How she must have been tortured and broken.

A burp escaped her lips but she didn't think to giggle.
As she pulled her blankets to her chest, she sighed.
The thought of her own strength and resolve made her smile.

......Dear God, she must have felt so alone in her pain.

She pulled her paperback book out from under the pillow
But, within seconds, lost interest and set it aside.
She had decided to close her eyes and enjoy the ride.

......Still, how could she leave me like this --- now broken myself?

As she felt her heart's ache subside and her senses dim,
She allowed her thoughts to travel 300 miles to her family.
She wondered if they would cry at her funeral.

......Would she have stayed had I asked her to? Didn't I?

The End for her was like the Beginning and the Middle:
Private. Efficient. On her terms. By force of will.
It was her final moment of triumph.

......Has she finally found the peace she longed for?

It was a Sunday.

For my Sister, In Loving Memory...
Jill Sue Ramsey
December 11, 1967 ... May 25, 1997