Is There Space for Love in Suicide?

What protocol did he follow?

Did he go to the hardware store and pick out a new hose?

Surely he didn’t unhook the apartment complex sprinkler, even if last breaths are intended to be deadly, carbon monoxide should pass through clean tubing. . .right?

Engineers are precise, important to keep decorum in death.

What about socks? Shoes? How to choose?

How does one dress when preparing for self-demise, for comfort or style?

What about pushups or a haircut? Is this the day to abandon the fastidious habits of a lifetime? Did he shower, go for a walk, look at the sky, listen to the birds, consider all he would leave behind?

Were there tears in his eyes As he turned the key in the ignition of the red Pontiac, one last time?

Did he say a prayer? What were the words?

Did he feel emotion or the dispassionate clarity of inevitability?

What of the last seconds? Did my 10-year-old face flash before his eyes? Is there space for love in suicide?

Questions based on the fragments I remember of my father and of the last morning of his life. I’m actually not sure if it was morning or evening, or frankly anything much at all. Strange that one of the defining events of my life would be wrapped in shadow. Trying to think about it in detail, even if guessing based on what I do remember of his character.

#takingmyownmedicine