only the good die young.

I don't know who all reads this. The only people who comment are Holidae and Miss C, but it's linked on my Facebook profile, so for all I know there could be loads of readers that I don't know about. Anyway, if this isn't your first time visiting An Existential Nightmare, you know that my last post was regarding a difficult day that I had at work in which I dealt with the death of a woman who I didn't even know. She was a complete stranger to me, and it was not until after her passing that I was a part of her "care," with the exception of a morning glucose check. You know that this was a very hard day for me.

I'm afraid that this post will not be a happy one, either. However, I have to write about this because it's been completely devastating to me and my family and I feel that the most therapeutic thing for me to do at this point in terms of dealing with it is to turn to the written word. I've spent years confiding in journals, and I suppose that this one is no different.

My father is the Director of Operations for Lifeshare of the Carolinas, the local organ procurement organization (OPO) in the area. He is an RN, and has worked very smartly to get to where he is. His hospital ID says "RN" next to his name, but he has an office with two windows and wears a tie to work every day instead of scrubs. He has not been involved with bedside care since 1990 when he became employed with Lifeshare. Lifeshare is part of the same healthcare system that I am employed by, and my father and I call the same hospital home base. In case you are wondering, no... my father has not lost his job. That is not what this is about.

This past Friday, the Friday before Christmas, my father was forced to fire an employee against his will. The order came from someone higher up, but because she was my father's employee, he was the one that had to do it (with HR present, of course.) Basically, she violated a corporate policy in what I think was an innocent way, and the punishment in no way fit the crime. There should've been a warning, even a written reprimand, but to terminate someone for what she did just seemed outlandish. I remember talking to him on the phone Friday morning and he was sick to his stomach over what he was about to have to do. You see, this girl was like a daughter to my father. She became a dear friend to our family during her employment with Lifeshare. She had my parents over for dinner several times, and it was not uncommon for us to all go out for sushi together when I was home from school. She left me messages on myspace from time to time. I saw her regularly on my unit at work when they had a referral. She came to my dad's birthday party the last two years, the only one from the office to be invited. We have been talking for months about her coming to Wilmington to visit when I turned 21. And she was damn good at her job. In the end, I really feel like it was just as much the hospital's loss as it was hers.

A couple of years ago, her parents moved down here from Ohio and into her house with her. They have been living there ever since. They are good, kind people, and I like them. I don't know what it means when you say someone comes from a "good family." I don't know if that means that they're good because of their financial comfort, or because they attend church on Sunday, of if because they're just nice. I don't know her family's financial situation, or their religious affiliation (if they have one,) but I would say she came from a good family. Like I said, I feel that they are good, kind people.

At 1am on December 26th, another employee received a text message from her that read simply, "I love you." Another received one at 4:30, and my father received one at 5:30. All three were identical. Only one of the employees responded. My father did not. None of them discussed this until today. God, here comes the hard part. I don't even know how to say this.

At 9:30 last night, her parents found her dead. She was 28. It's almost like the messages were her way of saying goodbye.

Because of her age and the nature of her death, it was automatically a case for the medical examiner. Although the body has already been released to the family, it has not been definitively labeled a suicide. I have no idea how long it will take to get the toxicology report.
Given the nature of the circumstances, I have a difficult time imagining that it could have been anything else, although I would feel so much better about it if that were the case.
My initial reaction this morning when my mother came into my room to tell me (after I overcame my speechlessness) was to question her mental well-being. Healthy, balanced, well-adjusted people don't just up and commit suicide following something like that. Granted, I realize that losing her boyfriend and her job in the same month was devastating to her, as either event would be enough independently of the other to trigger depression.

I don't understand. I don't suppose I can expect to, given that I've never dealt with depression of anxiety or anything of that sort. But I just can't imagine things being so bad, so hopeless, so miserable, that the only way to end it is to take your own life. I know that these people are not well, but I still have a hard time accepting it.

With that said, I think that suicide is one of the most selfish acts imaginable. This woman had a lot going for her. She had a wonderfully bubbly personality that people were instantly drawn to. She was well-liked in the office. She may have just lost her job, but that's not to say that she didn't still have plenty going for her, and plenty to live for. I looked up to her.
Her pain may have ended, but what about the pain she has caused her family, who had to find her? Who, now have to try to go on without her? Who, will associate Christmas with her death every year for the rest of their lives? What about her friends and all of the other people who cared about her? What about people like her father and mine, who now feel a tremendous responsibility for what has happened? How can one not think of all of the people that will be scarred from this?
Christmas will never, ever be the same. Not for her family and not for mine. My father will always associate the Friday before Christmas with the day he had to fire one of his favorite employees. I had never seen him so upset before, until now. Not even when his mother died a year ago, because... even though no one is ever really ready for the death of a parent, it wasn't entirely unexpected. Everyone in the office is devastated, just like my family is. They closed the office today around 12:30.

And her family... she was a daddy's girl, and it was doing something to help out her father that caused her to lose her job in the first place. I cannot begin to imagine the pain that he is feeling right now. They moved here to be close to her. (Note:I have this tremendous fear of finding someone dead. Not like, finding them in their hospital bed, but.. finding someone in their house, or somewhere else not related to medicine. And I don't mean like finding your grandma, because although that would be awful, the kind of fear I refer to is with regard to finding someone whose death was untimely, caused by something other than nature.) It's just not right to have to bury your own children. Goodess knows that they couldn't have ever imagined that they would be planning the funeral for their vibrant, outgoing, 28 year old daugter, two days after Christmas. I can't imagine that they'll stay in the state now. Surely they'll go back to Ohio. If it were me, there is no way that I would be able to stay there, in her house, after what happened.


I've never dealt with anything like this on a personal level. I guess you hear about this kind of thing somewhat frequently, whether you read it in the newspaper or see it on the news or on CSI or something like that. I just can't believe that I'm sitting here in Caribou Coffee, two days after Christmas, writing about the death of someone that I loved and respected and cared so much for. My family was supposed to leave tomorrow for Wilmington, to have Christmas with my mother's family on the coast. After this though, I don't know if my dad will go or not. If he doesn't, I don't want to leave him here by himself.

I'm exhausted. I'm sad, and angry, and hurt, and just plain exhausted. RIP Melanie.