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Monday May 12,2008

A Letter For My Jonny - With No 'H'

by Maggie

July 18th, 2003

Jonny,

Where can I start? People have told me that writing you a letter may help me deal with what has happened. Its been about 70 hours since I found out you died. I think today is the first day I am not in complete shock and despair. I honestly can tell you that those last 70 hours are more or less a blur in my mind and they passed very quickly. I don't remember much until last night.

I gotta tell ya' -- last night shocked me back into reality. And I am left wondering even more things. At first, all I wanted to know was that you were happy. I remember you telling me (and Susie) that when a friend killed himself, you felt you should be happy for him because that is what he wanted.

And I am trying to be happy for you. I know I am not mad at you, even though I thought I would be. And I am not in the least. I am shocked, but not surprised. After all, you told me a mere three weeks ago this is what you wanted. I heard you. I knew you were serious. Why didn't I try to stop you? I have asked myself that may times; did I think you were being melodramatic? No. Did I think you wouldn't do it? No, I knew you would. Did I care that little about you that it didn't seem to be worth it? No.

I think it was because I knew that you would do it. And as much as I thought a person should not take his own life, I do not think it is up to anyone to stop him. Free Will. By now I see that I was wrong: it doesn't take a coward to kill himself, but a hero. You always were a hero to me.

There are tons of technical questions I want to ask you: the number one being, why on earth did you shoot yourself wrong? Why the pillow? The alarm clock? 3:00 A.M. in the morning? It does not add up to me at all. You always critiqued all those movies that it surprised me more to find out you did put the gun in the wrong place than that you did it all. Should I wonder? Should this be another bizarre thing I am a witness to? If it is, you had better find a way to tell me, because you know how I feel about injustice.

But one way or another, there is injustice, isn't there? I know you said that you would not care how your death would make us feel; you'd be dead and could not care. But we do. Some more than others. And I care. And I don't blame you for telling me. Thank you for that. I don't know how it makes a difference, but it does. It makes me feel that we were close. I guess we really had become