My friend died, by suicide. Laid down in the woods and took an overdose. Her funeral was strange, it didn’t feel enough, and it didn’t feel tangible. How could it ever be? So I travelled to the place where she died. Crawled into the undergrowth where she had lain. Into the dirt, to be with her. I needed to feel it, I wanted to be close to it. Her death place. In amongst the minutia of leaves and animals and earth. How I wanted to look up at the trees and sky like she did and let it all go, slip away. Yet after a while I sensed I was done. A force had taken hold and a voice spoke to me. I crawled out the other side of the undergrowth. There was only one way in and one way out. Heaved my body up from the space where she never did emerge. I got a second chance, she didn’t.
