In the legend of Libby and Darren they were going to spend their old age rolling the neighbourhood on their matching scooters. Darren says he has no life now. The night before last he took a couple handfuls extra of his medication in the hope of not waking up. It didn’t work.
How do you make life look attractive to a guy like Darren?
He’s alone and feeling it. He has nobody to come home to, nobody much to talk to, nobody to hug and kiss. Libby was a cuddler, there would have been lots of hugs and kisses.
He doesn’t want to be a hassle.
He says he’s a burden.
I say, ‘you’re a person, Darren.’
My family is pretty used to the idea of suicide attempts. I don’t freak out, carry on. I’m calmer than any other time when we are in suicide mode, so is my partner, Reedy. He saw it with Libby and he knows what do with Darren.
It’s weird to drive the same streets, in the same calm fashion, having the same style conversations with Darren. Her street, but not Lib. It was wearying then and the weary feeling is back. Tired, calm. Try to help. Get back to normal. Wait for next time.
Tomorrow I’m taking Darren to the clinic. Hopefully they can do something for him. I don’t know what to do. Care. Be there in my ignorance and cry later on if there’s time.
I don’t own the tenth of June.
One of my best work buddies was born on the tenth of June. A couple of years ago it would have been just a mate’s birthday, nothing untoward. Yesterday at work, my friend, Eliza, mentioned her birthday was in nine days. I can count and I knew what she was driving at.
‘So, the tenth?’
I put it out there.
She hadn’t wanted to say. She knew I’d been feeling it. Suffering, obsessing, living and hating the day long before it was here. How sad that a close friend feels she can’t tell me when her birthday is and lovely it is that she wanted to protect me.
I told her I was glad that I didn’t have a monopoly on the tenth of June. We hugged and I said her birthday on the same day helped, made it better. It does help.
People come people go people die and people are born. June then tenth isn’t mine. Darren has shown me that. Eliza has shown me, too. This is sadness and this is living.
darren hanging with his sweet pea