goodnight claire

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Sheepishly Claire shuffled toward me.   Years of trying not to impose her pressumed  unwanted presence had refined this shuffle to an art form.  Her 4ft 10inch  plump-Gothness  covered her  painfully polite nature and razor sharp awareness.

I watch my friends re-arrange their stance to make it more difficult for Claire to catch their eye, start a conversation. We’ve all tried, we all know how conversations  with Claire unfold. Last weekend I spent 8 dark hours exploring ways through her sadness.   I’m just the latest in a string of well meaning people trying  to pull her away from believing death is her right choice.   One by one the good souls pull away from her,  to save themselves from drowning in her engulfing sadness.

When she died it made complete sense to me, she was finally free, all the people who cared about her were finally free.   She taught me to respect that choice. Sometimes I see Claire in the street, in a conversation with a friend or stranger.   I remember her fondly.

After Claire’s suicide I moved into her room.

goodnight claire
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3 bits of lovely banter on “goodnight claire”

  1. Happy Frog and I writes:

    Powerful writing

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  2. wendy writes:

    thankyou, I like to try to step outside the comfortable, acceptable, conversation zone, in less than 3 paragraphs, without requring the reader to scroll, with a plausible-ness and an Oh factor….

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  3. Bux writes:

    Wow that is powerful Wendy, and stirs the emotion too.

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