Hillary

A friend came over last night.  Her 23 year old daughter died about a month ago.  We've talked since, on the phone, but this was the first time we sat and really talked about what happened. I finally got up the nerve to ask about the autopsy results. It was what I thought- suicide.  She drank a lot of alcohol, took a lot of tylenol, and drowned herself.  Her boyfriend came home around 10:30 at night and found her naked in the bathtub.  He had just told her that he wanted to break up with her.

She was Vietnamese- she was adopted from an orphanage when she was about 5 (they never knew exactly how old she was.) She remembered her birth mother only slightly- she told my friend that she was always in bed, and never had enough medicine.  She was the sweetest thing- tiny, beautiful, a dancer. She fell apart when she was rejected, usually by some boy.  The puzzle pieces of her life kind of all fit together, in a tragic way.

She became obsessed with Whitney Houston after her death- she pretty much killed herself the same way.  I'm mad at her- I'm mad at Whitney- I'm mad that anyone that young could feel like her life was worthless.

It was a funny evening- we laughed a lot more than we cried.  In fact, my friend said that it was the first time she's really laughed since it happened.  That made me happy.


I've been lying here thinking about it all for the past hour. And now, I am going to get out of bed and try to fit more into one day than is humanly possible.  I will miss you, bed... can't wait to see you again tonight....