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The Visit

I didn't want to attend, but did. These aren't situations I do well in. I walked into the funeral home room. The chairs were empty and the sadness was oppressive. I would have turned around if Patty hadn't seen me. I signed the guest book. Calling hours had been open for two hours and I was the only name in it. She held her arms out and her eyes beckoned me. I walked slowly toward her, staring at the floor. As I neared, she tilted her head as I lifted mine. Her eyes were full of questions and sadness. She hugged me awkwardly; we were never close. She was my best friend's Mom. I tried to back away, but she held me tighter.

"Why?" she whispered into my ear.

It was a plea. I didn't answer for fear of crying. There isn't an answer for why a young man commits suicide. Like Patty and everyone else, I missed the signs.

She let me go. "Can you come over and talk with me sometime?"

I managed to nod, knowing I never would.

Story by:

NT Franklin

3 July 2018