Dear Amy

Dear Amy,

Its been four years, and I still keep wondering about your final breaths. Were they deep? Were they shallow? Did you hurt? I'm too scared to ask anyone what exactly happened, even after so much time has passed. I feel like it's more than I'm entitled to know, since I wasn't in your life when you needed it most, but I gathered from the sentiments I saw that it was quite a shock for everyone in your immediate circle. Do you regret it, or was it a relief? Either way, I really do hope that your spirit is sent to us again somehow. We really needs a lot more "Amys" in the world, if you ask me.

Had anyone asked me to name a person I went to school with who would fall into this category, you probably would have found your name in the bottom five on my list. Shows you what I know. In many ways, you were so predictably stereotypical - the popular girl, acting as class president and head varsity cheerleader with a star quarterback boyfriend. It sounds like the backstory for an ABC Afterschool Special.

But you were also unsuspectingly smart, funny enough never to take yourself too seriously, and willing to be the butt of any joke. You had spunk, character, and endless energy mixed with that contagious laugh all in your tiny, little five-foot frame. I'd swear your infinite smiles were powered by the actual sun, and attached to beautiful, bright, blond locks that cascaded gently around your cherubic face, like sunbeams emitting rays of warmth. But even with all those wonderful qualities, the thing I remember most was how kind you were - to everyone. No one was too dorky, too ugly, too fat, too skinny, too nerdy, or too anything. You greeted everyone with that same bright smile, and eager willingness to be a friend. All they had to do was let you in.

Honestly, I've never seen such an outpouring of love and shocked sadness for anyone who wasn't a celebrity. But I guess you were a celebrity, in some small way, at least to your own friends, even if you didn't know it. Truly, I would bet my life that everyone around you looked up to you in one way or another. In my family no one deals well with loss or emotions at all, we barely have funerals to acknowledge their life. But I'm sure, I didn't even see half of it in your case. People from every wrinkle of time in your brief 40 years, were just grief-stricken, whether they had talked with you recently or not.

And then there was the guilt.

I felt it too, and I hadn't even connected with you for years. I mean, we ended up in the same city. It's a big city, but still, you reached out to see how I was, and ask if I wanted to catch up. It was literally days before I was heading up north for my wedding, but I said I'd reach out when we got back in a few weeks. I guess that would have been 2008. Then being my usual self, I got busy with work, felt antisocial and never did. But I want you to know that I always kept an eye on your adventures.

You went on beautiful walks with Sophie (leave it to you to adopt a three-legged special needs dog)...

became a trail runner...

and seemed to have a huge group of friends around to provide all the support you could ever need from the running groups you joined.

Social media can be so deceptive. There certainly must have been a monster eating away at you, that no one noticed. I didn't. You hid that insidious monster so well from the outside world. In fact, I was probably jealous of your seemingly amazing world at the time, and chained to my desk at work.

I remember thinking your circle seemed so full of life, laughter and success. I knew you were working at the American Cancer Society, still doing great things for other people, so I never really worried too much about you. You seemed right where you were destined to be, helping others and doing great things with your life, as always.

Even in my own struggles with depression, I never saw it in you. I guess that's the real evil of depression, it happens while no one is looking and everyone is pre-occupied with their own lives and insecurities. It is a soul collector, and I don't know how you came across to the world as you did, with such incredible poise, happiness and strength, while it was constantly nibbling away at you. I struggle so much with that.

Reading those stories from your friends about all the sweet, thoughtful things you did for them out of the blue, or little cards of support you sent, it always reminds me that no one ever seemed to do anything thoughtful for you unexpectedly. How disappointing that must have been.

I went back and read my own message that you sent from years back and I could hear the perky, happiness in your voice from finding someone you knew after just moving to town. I'm still scratching my head years later. I think about what happened lying in bed at night, and I end up in tears. I can't imagine how those closest to you feel.

But don't feel bad, Dear Amy, I know that the struggle is all too real. Sometimes, that darkness just eats you alive and you can't see the path in front of you, even with sunbeams like yours shining so brightly. Just know that we all miss you and think of you often. There is no anger, only regret, and hope that you have found the peace you so desperately needed.

'Til we meet again friend, keep reaching for the stars -

"Sydney"

If you or someone you know if struggling with depression or suicidal thoughts, please reach out to the National Suicide Prevention Line at: 1-800-273-8255.