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Talk To Me
I “travel” in many different chat rooms on the computer. The literature chat room was my “home” for a long time. Book discussions in this room were fascinating, exciting, at times heated. Some people did not like the book being discussed, others did. Comments flew across the screen showing inner thoughts about the author, his words, and his style. I love reading; many times I was involved in these discussions. Most books I have read became old, good, dear friends. I stated this many times in the room.
One night in early September, a young lady named Sarah private messaged me. Her first words to me were, “Please talk to me, you seem very nice.” I looked at the information she provided for the general public to view. She was eighteen years old, she loved reading. I answered her in the private message, “Very nice to meet you, of course I will talk to you.” We began talking that night; she was an intelligent young woman. Her mood seemed a bit on the “dark side”, I mentioned it to her. Her comment sounded like a typical 18 year old. Things in life were not as she expected them to be. I asked gently if she had contemplated suicide, her answer was no, but I felt sadness in her words.
We talked to each other, by typing, at least two to three hours every night. We got to know each other well. She heard about my husband, son, and our animals. I listened to her tell about her mother, father, and two brothers. We would laugh at the antics of my nine year old son. I could almost hear her laughter. The nightly talks became a ritual with us both. Comments were made offhand, how much we enjoyed them. Her maturity surprised me.
October passed quickly with our nightly visits. Her typing slowed; she told me the cold weather affected her. Sarah’s moods seem to be darkening. One night I asked if suicide was looming closer. I thought this was a terrible fate for a young lady. She changed the subject. My thought was her talking to me would show her someone cared. Loneliness is one factor of suicides. I was hoping to make that difference in her life.
November brought Thanksgiving and her mood did not lift at all. I talked of family dinners, preparing for Christmas, and celebrations in the future. I hoped to brighten her spirits. She would laugh at our animals playing with the Christmas tree. Her smiles would show in type. I would talk of our son’s anticipation of Santa coming to visit. She wanted to hear it all.
Three days before Christmas she did not show up. I waited late into the night, hoping, praying. My husband and son knew I talked to this girl every night after they were in bed. She was in our conversations often. My husband mentioned checking her hometown paper for her obituary. He knew of my concern about her mood. I stated, “No I do not want to know before Christmas, I will check December 26.”
On December 26th I checked the newspaper in the town she lived in. I found what I dreaded, her obituary on December 23. It never stated the cause of death. I was heartbroken; I felt I had failed her. She did not believe I cared enough I thought she had taken her own life. Christmas time is the highest rate of suicide.
December 31st I received a letter in the mail. It was from her mother. I had given Sarah my home address, early in November. Sarah’s mother had written to me a very loving, thoughtful, and heartbreaking letter. Sarah had died of leukemia. This letter told me how I had made a dying girl laugh, something her family had not heard in months. As I read this letter, tears flowed freely. Sarah had not been out of the house in months, people stared at her appearance. Her mother wrote, “When she talked to you on the computer, never was physical appearance mentioned. You accepted her for herself.” Sarah made her mother promise to write me, explaining the whole situation. Let me know how much I meant to a dying girl and her family.
Sarah affected my life greatly, I miss her even now. She is missed by many.
