There was an office meeting at a house that wasn’t owned by anyone that worked there. It was a nice size house, big gravel driveway and a field with uncut grass yonder. We huddled into a formal dining room to begin the meeting. My boss, D and manager Y said some things that I didn’t agree with so I said my part and quit. I walked out and drove, and drove, and drove. An hour I was gone. I came back to the house because I forgot something. All the lights were off and everyone was missing but D and another groomer, S. I asked what happened to Y. D replied she passed. Turns out, while I was gone, she filled her exhaust with gravel and gassed the car out, but not before putting it in neutral to make it look like an accident. I ran outside to we if it was a prank. It wasn’t. She lay there in the car with flowers in get grasp. I wailed. What a mistake I made! The rest of us talk and share our grief. An hour goes by and her husband, N, shows up. He’s drunk and livid. What do I say? It’s all my fault! How do I validate this?! I apologize profusely, realizing they it will never be enough, not knowing what to do. She still lays there in the car, in the driveway, halfway in the uncut grass. She looks at peace.
Time passes and I’m sitting next to Y on a bench and say, “I need to ask you something!” She nods for me to up ahead with my question. I ask, “why did you decide to take your own life that night?”
She responds, “Everything was working against me, my marriage, financial situation, work, and then that was the last thing I could take. There was nothing more left after that.”