Thursday, May 7, 2026

The Night Before We Found Her


I awoke from an uncomfortable, light sleep to the sound of my cell phone vibrating on my night stand. I slapped at the phone and fumbled to answer the call. “Hello?”

“Vera!”

“Kaylie. . . ?”

“Vera. Oh my god. He dumped me. He dumped me!” Loud sobbing for a long time. . . “I can’t take this!”

“Oh Kaylie. . . I’m so sorry. . . What happened . . . ?”

Sobbing, mumbling, panting. “It’s over. He doesn’t want to be my boyfriend anymore. . .”

“You’ll get through this. I know it. You just need some time to clear your head. Maybe it’s ok. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be anyway. You’re strong, smart, beautiful. It’s his loss! I promise!”

“I just can’t. . . I can’t do this anymore. It’s not possible. . . I’m so alone. . .” sobbing.

“You just need to sleep. It’s late! Do you have something that can help you sleep?”

“Yes I do, but. . . ” . . . Long, long pause . . . “What I want right now is to go to sleep and never wake up again. . . .”

Long pause, Quiet. Both of us are breathing.

“I . . . I love you Kaylie. . . I wish I could say it would be ok to do that. . . But it wouldn’t be ok. . . You know that right?”

Long pause. “Yeah. . . I know. . .”

“Don’t call him. Don’t go to Fort Collins to see him. Just leave it be. Do you promise?”

“Yeah. I promise.”

“I’m going out for breakfast with Brittany tomorrow. Call me ok? You can join us if you want. I’ll treat you.”

“Yeah. Ok. . .”

“Bye Kaylie.”

“Bye.”

I was 8 months pregnant that night, and it was late, maybe 12:30 am. The call was surprising, but not shocking. I had been very close with Kaylie through her relationship challenges. I had been close with her through all her mental health struggles, since we were just 8 years old. By now we had been friends for 18 years.

In high school Kaylie was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, which to me, made a lot of sense. She had already had many bouts of very deep depression by then, but always rebounded with passion, vigor, and renewed creativity. Kaylie had been on various medications since high school, with adjustments and changes many times over the years. 

That night she was once again living on her own in Denver, and she was changing her meds, with the close supervision of a psychiatrist. She had been with this boyfriend for a few months, and had high hopes for a “true love” connection. But the signs had been trickling through that this relationship might not last. I guess the signs had been trickling through that her mental health was precarious too, but we all missed those signs. . . How did I miss the signs? I didn’t realize the words we exchanged that night would be the forever-goodbye.

Guilt, remorse, shame, regret

 - It comes from not recognizing, this time, that she was on a precipice, a thin edge of ice leading to oblivion.

 - It comes from being too physically and mentally exhausted to listen more carefully to the silence between the words we exchanged the night before she died.

 - It comes from the tiny (but growing) thought, at that time, that maybe her soul deserved rest. She seemed exhausted, like a battered mast weathering storm after storm.

 - It comes from brushing something off and losing my laser vision, from just rolling over and going back to sleep without a second thought. From not thinking about it again until it was far too late.

Did I know, somewhere in my clunky, pregnant brain, that those were the words of a forever-goodbye we spoke that night? How did I miss my chance to save my friend?

No comments:

Post a Comment