I'm very sad today.
I woke up at about 05:00, after getting to bed about 01:30. I went out and picked up the paper, noting that it was a warm, humid night. I glanced at the headlines, then made coffee and went to check messages on the machine.
Karen had another headache, took another of her precious pills, and left for work about 06:30. I decided to read the paper while starting my second pot of coffee.
I mostly glance at the front page and turn to the funnies. Today, on the page opposite the funnies, a name in the obits caught my eye.
Marva Willyard, age 47: Died at home on Tuesday.
Shit.
Marva was a good friend for many years. My contact with her has been limited for the last ten years, though. She was a diagnosed schitzophrenic. I would give her a call about once a year, just to see if we could have a reasonable conversation. The last time was more than a year ago, when she told me that I was an instrument of the devil, and to never call her again.
I have been thinking about her a lot in the last week, and I was thinking about calling her again. She called me in July and abused me greatly, then hung up on me. Our calls/conversation depended a lot on if she was on or off of her medication. We would occasionally meet at a local cafe for coffee, if she was on the meds and sober.
She has frequently talked about killing herself, and I'm sure that's what happened finally... although the last time that I saw her, she was skinny as a rail, and she told me that the voices had told her that eating was sinful. She might have just starved to death.
She had gotten remarried about six years ago, but there was no mention of a husband in the obit...
Did I mention that she was beautiful and intelligent and a very good friend...?
And I'm feeling guilty as hell that I didn't call her the last time that I thought about it.
Not that it would have made any difference... but I don't know that. Well, yes, I do, intellectually, but emotionally is a whole different thing.
The greater question: what do we owe our friends who are dying?
Friendship, love... of course.
When they reject that friendship and love? What can we do? Keep trying, at the expense of being abused? I don't know. I can't.
Marva was miserable in this life. She knew what was happening to her, and she was powerless... we talked about this many times. She told me to ignore her when she got crazy and abusive, that she loved me and was a good friend, no matter what she said or did.
She is free now... free from the craziness that was her mind and her life. And I miss her... I've missed her for a long time.
And I know that I am just as powerless as she was. We all are... we have to live our lives, then we are given surcease with death. And life, as has been noted here before, isn't fair.