Thursday, June 16, 2011


I feel like I've been punched in the stomach.  I just found out that my friend's husband committed suicide.  She and I met through kickboxing two summers ago and bonded right away...probably because we were both going through the same torture together, and we both teach English. Their daughter is in the same karate class as Trinity, and her husband is--was--a bit of an artist who enjoyed making pottery, amongst other things.  He gave us these for Christmas:

It was a completely random gift; I don't think he had any clue that I was an avid hot-tea drinker when he gave these to us.  You can see from the stains that they have been well-used in the last six months, but now I feel strange just looking at them.  The man that created these mugs used those same hands to take his own life. 

I'm not going to try to make my friend's tragedy my own.  But my heart hurts for her right now, and I hurt for her daughter, who no longer has her dad.  I feel shocked and horrified that suicide has touched the lives of people I care about.  I hate this feeling.  I need to go hug someone.  And then curl up and take a nap.