Went for a long walk, looking for my friend Gary to find out exactly what happened to Barb. Couldn’t find him. Decided not to walk all the way to Starbucks, got a Diet Dr. Pepper from the 7-11 instead and came back home.
Man, oh man. Barbara and I weren’t incredibly close, but I considered her my friend and I think she considered me the same. I always liked her very much. She was adorable and, conversely, possessed of a wonderfully foul mouth and a wicked sense of humor. She was someone I was always happy to see and hang out with, when I ran into her.
We emailed and spoke a couple of times while she was in New York acting. I hadn’t seen her, I don’t think, since she came back to Vegas, but I’d been hoping I’d run into her somewhere. I got an email invite from her the other day to some professional network like LinkedIn, but I hadn’t responded to it.
I can’t imagine Barbara dead. I can’t imagine Barbara killing herself. (I seem to have an unplaced memory of seeing her crying once, though I can’t remember where or why, but she never struck me as a particularly depressive person.) Worst of all, the last time she’d come up in conversation was when Alex told me, a few weeks ago, that she’d just gotten married in October.
Man, oh, man. That’s the second one of my friends to commit suicide this year. As somebody whose thoughts turn that way sometimes, I’m always surprised when someone actually does it — other people seem so much stronger than I am. But I guess I’m still here, which I guess means I’ve got something keeping me going. I just wish I knew what that was, so I could share it with people like Barb.
I’ll miss you, girl. I’m so sorry.