We never found a letter from Mali after she completed suicide.
For 109 days I spent a lot of time in anguish. I just want words say why she did this. What was so bad in her life she could not talk to me or her father.
On day 110, a letter was found. It wasn’t in an envelope. Just a paragraph on school paper.
It was found by her brother who was cleaning out a spare room. Her old child’s bed was in that spare room. The letter he found was between the mattress and box spring.
I could not read it at first. I imagined she would lash out at her family. Angry and upset. I was terrified to know its contents.
After about an hour, I got up the courage to read it. It was exactly as my daughter lived her 14 years. Introspective, real, apologetic. It told us the reason. She felt she led a terrible life. She was a terrible failure. She had no purpose on the planet. She wanted forgiveness for her choices and for us not to be mad at her. She fell into a black hole she couldn’t get out of
She loved us very much.
My heart, what was left of that shattered organ splintered a little more.
The last 30 days I have spent in CBT and DBT classes, the loss and grief classes all went out the window. I have just shut down.
I loved that little girl more than life itself. She was my world. We were close. I never thought of her as a failure. I want to own that failure. I couldn’t save her.
This is the bitter life sentence I have talked about before. It’s cold, grey, and bleak in my world without that beautiful ray of light.
I forgive her everything. There was nothing to forgive. She made a choice and damn if she didn’t execute that plan. No fear on her part it seems. Just acceptance in that mentally ill brain that was operating her.
I wish her peace and light on her journey and I hope she can forgive me for all my failings as a parent
I will always love you Mals.
Remembering Mali 