Day Into Night

Today, I am reminded of what keeps me rooted to this small town I call home.

Off and on for years I have railed against living here, railed against the astonishing familiarity so many people have with my life, railed against the proximity of people I wished to escape, and railed--ferociously--against the numbing sameness of a small town.

But today . . .

Today, someone I've known nearly all of my 39 years, someone my parents and aunts and uncles grew up with, took her own life. It had become a tragic life, punctuated by pain and sorrow none should feel--a life so sad, so broken, that she couldn't find her way back out to peace.

She tried. She clung to her church and to her faith. In the end, though, her despair was overwhelming.

In thinking about her life and death, the web of people around her astounds me. There aren't six degrees of separation. There are no degrees; there is no separation. In this community, with its maddening, smothering, ultimately touching closeness, there is no separation.

No, no separation. Instead . . .

There will be another empty spot in my pew at church.

Her neighbor, who will live the rest of his life with today's images burned in his mind, is one of my father's best friends.

The students in our school will have a new cook.

My parents have lost another life-long friend.

Our rescue squad is made up of her neighbors and friends, her children's classmates, and her coworkers.

All of these are personal to me; for every person who knew her or knew someone who knew her, another list exists.

Our lists overlap.

Our hearts break together.

Our tears fall in sorrowful rhythm.

Our prayers reach out to her tonight.

Together.

Yes, I have railed against much of what makes a small town, but tonight there is no rebellion. Tonight, there is only the comfort that comes from all that makes this small town my home. Because tonight, so many of us are searching for comfort in the familiarity, the proximity, and the sameness. Tonight, we are one, and we are wishing peace for Debby.