WHEN YOU KILL YOURSELF

February 18, 1994

"And you want to travel with her, and you want to travel blind, and you think you'll trust her, for you've touched her perfect body with your mind."     Leonard Cohen  - Suzanne

Anne, your smile was a false god, captivating and enticing, dazzling in its brilliance and charm - delicately deceiving in all that it promised.

I met Anne the first day she was on campus, in late August 1968. I was in the administration building when Dean Norm Kaye came up to me and asked if I could give someone a ride to the dentist. He then introduced me to Anne and I immediately obliged.

She was a transfer student from Saint Petersburg Junior College and like me, she was a junior and a literature major. And she was absolutely adorable.

We became friends that day and as the school year progressed our friendship grew and deepened into love. And we learned that there were secrets we shared - depression and thoughts of suicide.

I remember the last night I spent with Anne, for that was a gift from heaven. On Saturday February 15, 1069, I was at Club '67, the campus bar, with my best friend John. At around 8:00pm Anne walked in, ordered a beer, then sat down at a table by herself and facing me - and smiled.

After a short while I bought her a beer and joined her.  We talked and laughed, had another beer, then went outside. We hugged and kissed for a few minutes and then she told me that she wanted to go for a walk. Holding hands, we walked to the grotto - a small, opened space area   surrounded by tall trees whose branches covered the grotto like a canopy. And hanging from the branches was Spanish moss.

We kissed, soft suggestive kisses beneath Spanish moss.

We then left the grotto and spent the night together.  Around 6:00am, on Sunday February 16th, I drove her back to her dorm.

At the main entrance to her dorm, we hugged, kissed and laughed - for we had just had a most wonderful night together. As we stood there, Anne took a small red button with white lettering from her pocket and pinned it to my jacket. It ream I AM LOVED. She quickly kissed and whispered, "Tom, I love you,' then walked into dorm. When she reached the stairs she turned, smiled and waved.

Little was I to know that it was Anne's final wave goodbye.

A couple of hours later I went to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee.  I sat with friends and when I looked around the dining hall, I saw Anne getting up from a table with an empty tray. She smiled at me and then came over to my table and said good morning. I told her I would give her a call sometime in the afternoon. But I would never see nor speak to her again.

That afternoon I laid down on my bed to rest and ended up falling asleep, not waking up until 9:00pm.  I decided it was too late to call Anne, so I took off my clothes and went back to bed.

The next morning Anne wasn't in class nor was she in the cafeteria at lunch time. When she wasn't at her afternoon classes, I called her dorm and spoke with her roommate who told that Anne went tp Tampa and would be back for supper.

At the time I called her dorm, Anne was sitting on a seawall with a gun in her hand.

Although our last night together was a gift from heaven, her death has been a curse from hell. My depression deepened that day and I have never fully recovered from the tragedy that took place that afternoon.

Since then my life has been trapped between the bookends of two suicides - my grandfather's and Anne's.

Anne, you said, "I love you," but you never said goodbye.

I end this day with words from Leonard Cohen, "You know my love goes with you as your loves stays with me."

3:30pm   -  Eldredge Library   -   Chatham, MA

contact; fortheheartcries@gmail.com