Sooo, tonight is Emma’s last night on the island.  She leaves tomorrow to go back home.  It’s a mile marker for me since I have three weeks left.  This is the last of my roommates to leave before me.  I will be leaving next month and then Corrina will follow later on in October.  And the girls gathered together for one last Hoorah for Emma’s going-away.

Everything started out great.  There was drinking, music and I was sort of vaguely watching Happy Feet while keeping an eye on how drunk everyone appeared to be (not even tipsy).  Emma was in an out, probably to say good bye to other friends around the island.

A little while ago, she disappeared again.  And then news came about a friend of a friend’s dad.  He’d committed suicide.  Conversation became rather serious.  Apparently, the son was in the Pub drinking his sorrows away.  He didn’t want to go back to his place because he was afraid he’d start destroying things.  As I listened to this news, I tried to imagine how he could be feeling.  Not so much the betrayal suicide might bring, but the sense of loss.  It is such a huge feeling, in my mind, like a gaping hole in the wall of a beautiful house.  I could only envision how, in the incredibly distant future (like 3 million years) it might feel.  But even that agony was strong.  I have the strangest urge to cry for the boy who has just lost his father…

In any case, the topic of conversation caused me to withdraw from the living room in order to think about such news.  In all of my young life, I have never really come across something so terrible except in movies.  And even though it is not someone I know, I feel sorrow for his loss as it is not something I can even bear to imagine.

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