Aliyah,I'm not sure why the roof called to you.
I don't know why you chose Los Angeles
or if you were really getting closer to Jesus.
I only know I miss you, and I no longer want to
bear the weight of that parking lot.
Today would have been my friend's 23rd birthday. But, a couple of weeks ago, she committed suicide. No one knows why. Depression? Schizophrenia? No one knows. And I have been feeling hurt, angry, confused. I feel lost. Numb. Unmotivated. Depressed. Alone. Her passing has made me think a lot about my own life, my own death, what I want, how I've failed, what my options are.
How does one deal with loss? I cried so hard when I found out, cried cried cried; and the tears didn't dry. Sure, I was dehydrated. Sure, I couldn't eat. Sure, I fought my way through a poetry workshop that I had to teach. Sure, I threw up water and three spoonfuls of the broth of chicken soup five times at my friend's house where we had all gathered to grieve. But the pain didn't go away, and it still hasn't. Accepting that the beautiful, talented, funny, eccentric Aliyah is gone is just too painful.
Today, her family and friends are holding a celebration of her life. I am personally celebrating all the interactions that I had with her--the moments hanging out in a hazy bathroom, the book she lent me, the conversation about The Secret, the sangria and dirty wind.
I am celebrating and crying and wishing that this life were different, that grief and death did not coexist, that I could message Aliyah on Facebook and get a tangible answer.For now, I speak to her spirit: I miss you. I love you. Your life and presence in this world were meaningful to me. I just wish you were here to celebrate with us today. I will always value your words, smile and friendship. Your friends will always speak your name. Happy Birthday, Aliyah.
