I find myself thinking this morning about something I’ve usually managed to bat away. Even with Jeff Bridges’ “Fallin’ and Flyin'” playing in the background, the thoughts still crowd in.
I ought to explain myself. I heard of Kim’s passing a week after it happened, and heard from her for the last time six weeks before she died. Retrospectively, I recognise that there was a hint in that last message. She’d mentioned that a friend had carried her down the stairs to go to a hospital appointment, because she didn’t want to go. I understand that perfectly well, ’cause none of us want to go to a hospital. The cruel parallel here is that six weeks later, this same friend was a pallbearer. It’s one of those things that should never have had to be. Unfortunately, there are just thousands of those, it seems. I’ve taken to watching TV programmes about the human body in a futile attempt to try to understand what the heck might have happened. I can’t find any anorexia info that isn’t alarming statistics. Right now, it’s not all that helpful to know that it was statistically more likely to end up this way. Apparently a quarter of people affected by ED (the abbreviation universally used, not just covering anorexia, but used here by me to save myself having to write that word again) actually recover. Yes, they’re susceptible, but there’s some recovery to speak of. Somewhere within these emails that I still have to deal with, there are repeated references to her wanting to be well again. I find myself thinking sarcastically more than lovingly now, unfortunately: “Yeah, right- that happened!”
Guess I just have to go through it and come out the other side, again. Was easier last time, ’cause I can’t pin any responsibility on Chris for what happened to her. My natural instinct is to almost want to blame Kim for this, ’cause in a way, it was something she did.
It pains me to think as such, but it’s the only way I can right now. Thanks for riding this with me.