Kyra's Story

Kyra's Story

         The human mind is a funny and often fickle thing. At times so strong, so resilient, and at others… well, not all minds are created equal and each has its own breaking point.

         This could just as well be your story or mine, one filled with the ebb and flow between all points, an exploration if you will, into the strengths and fragilities that exist in the realms of every human life. But today, we hear Kyra's story and the battles fought between the two major points we each face: life and death. 

   

         Holding tight to the bridge railing, Kyra stared intently at her feet, wishing with all her heart they could produce one of those amusement park maps with a big red arrow pointing to a spot that says, "You are here." In her present state of mind, she figured if something could tell her where she was, maybe it could also tell her how to get the hell out of here.

         "How big a leap is it from bliss to suicide?" she wondered, not for the first time. This thought was closely followed by, "Are you sure you really want to know the answer?"

         Kyra, for whatever reason, had firmly decided she wasn’t going to jump. Whether this was a sign of cowardice or bravery, she didn’t know. "Maybe it’s one more sign that you’re coming unglued, that you’re just one bottle shy of a six-pack these days." But Kyra wasn’t crazy. Seriously depressed, yes. Certifiable? No. Even though she knew this to be true on some level, her mind seemed intent on nudging her ever closer toward a dark place leading straight to the fourth floor and all its pharmaceutical allure. She could almost feel the long-armed, stiff jacket that came with the membership.

         "Do the really crazy ones even know they’re crazy?" This internal dialogue didn't seem to be making things any easier, but the truth was, she had no one else to talk to, no one that would understand.

         Kyra tore her eyes away from her feet and the watery view that lay beyond. "Death won’t catch me today, not if I have anything to say about it." Climbing back over the railing, Kyra continued her journey towards who knew where.

         She couldn’t go home, couldn’t face the memories lurking in every nook and cranny, each one adding painful pressure to an already gaping wound. If not home, then where? Not wanting to think or feel, Kyra simply continued putting one foot in front of the other. The perpetual motion and omnipresent noise of the city scarcely penetrated the invisible cocoon she’d wrapped around herself. But as the mind so often has a way of doing, Kyra’s kept returning to the very thing she didn’t want to think about: Daniel. He was the love of her life, but he'd been cruelly yanked much too soon from this world into another, leaving a desolate emptiness behind.

         Kyra had no idea how to ease her pain, didn’t know how she could possibly go on with a life that didn’t include Daniel. "It hurts so much," she silently screamed. Pain this deep, this severe, went beyond the physical, even beyond the mental. This pain seared the soul, leaving a red-hot brand of intense misery that set off nerve synapses throughout her body. At this moment, she could no sooner sit still than her grief could bring Daniel back.

         So on she went, no apparent destination in mind. With each passing step she felt sure she'd simply collapse into a lifeless puddle of human sludge.

         Just how far Kyra had walked is a mystery, but it was far enough that her energy began to wane as the veil of gray began to lift ever so slightly. Finding herself in another park, Kyra spied an empty bench. As the dam gave way, so did her knees, and the first of her unshed tears began to fall. Oblivious of the world around her, Kyra let them wash away the outermost layers of grief. Although she didn't know it, her heart had taken the first tentative and uncertain step toward healing.
         Fumbling in her coat pocket for tissues, Kyra’s hand found instead one of Daniel’s handkerchiefs. Through fresh tears, she couldn’t help but smile. Daniel had given her this handkerchief on the same bridge where she had stood contemplating the big leap just hours ago. She had cried that day too – the day he had proposed to her.

         His passing meant they would never know the blessings and hardships of marriage, or the joys and frustrations of children. "It’s not such a big leap from bliss to suicide at all," she thought, but Kyra realized then how lucky she was. She had made that leap from bliss, not to suicide, but to something so close as to be sobering and life-affirming.

         Kyra sat for a few moments longer, needing to muster enough courage to face the future and what it held. Yes, she was a mess, both inside and out, but she knew somehow she would survive. She had known true love, both the giving and the receiving of it. This was the stuff of life, the stuff that made life worth living.

word count: 879
12.23.08
WGC