THE WIND PHONE
I’m at That Age Where Everyone Around Me Dies
It’s not me, I swear
CW: Suicide, abuse
Last week, I learned my junior high school friend, Coe, died by suicide. She was the latest in the assault of deaths I’ve experienced in the last few months, and honestly, I’m sick of people dying.
It’s difficult to keep track of all the deaths in my life in the last three months. There was my empath friend, Pattie; my first Drama Department friend, Keith; my mother; and then my former friend, Tina. With Coe, that makes five—a full house of death.
When I tell people about all this dying, they say the same thing, “Well, we’re at that age, aren’t we?”
I notice they never finish the sentence. They don’t have to, as the full meaning is understood — we’re at that age where everyone around us dies. I nod and agree, but on the inside, I object.
In my heart, I’m too young to have all these people I’m connected to pass away. Aren’t we all too young? This doesn’t seem like the natural order of things—this seems excessive and pointed as if something is awry cosmically or Death is trying to send me a message.
We’re taught that death isn’t personal—it’s arbitrary. Some people live long lives, and others don’t. That’s the way…
