Um, yeah. My friend Pam killed herself this week. I have nothing deep or eloquent to say about it. Nothing I can possibly say that will do her justice. She was an amazing person, probably the kindest and most generous soul I have ever known. Everyone loved her, but her head was so full of darkness and depression and hopelessness that she could not see how much she was loved. All of her friends are really shaken by this, and so am I. It isn't quite real yet.

It's very strange that this happened just when I was feeling about as depressed myself as I ever have. She must have felt completely alone and unloved, and she was so, so wrong. If she could be so blind to a truth that was completely obvious to everyone around her, then maybe there is the slightest possibility that I'm wrong too, and that there is more love and hope out there for me than I am capable of seeing right now.

I'm going to feed myself carefully this weekend with things I like: knitting, resting, reading, as much time outside as the pollen count will allow, some beagle time, some fresh sheets, some cold water, fruit, salad, things that smell good, baseball, some rain (I hope), and a lot of time thinking about other people instead of myself, especially dear, dear Pam and my other friends.