Miranda sat in the dark, lush garden centre near her local elementary school. Tears streaked down her tender, blue eyes as she read a tear-stained letter that had been written by her friend.
Her arm went numb and the letter fluttered to the tiled walkway leading to the gray, stone bench she sat on. She finally slumped over, no longer having the strength to keep her body erect.
The letter was from her best friend, Tiffany, who had tragically took her life the night before. Miranda hadn‘t made it to the bottom of the letter, yet.
Miranda couldn’t understand how she could do such a thing. Tiffany had been one of the most bubbly girls she had ever met. They had been friends since second grade. She was due to graduate in two weeks.
Tiffany had obtained a full scholarship to Tulane University and planned on becoming a physician. She was all about saving people. How ironic that someone who wanted to save people couldn’t save themselves?
Drops suddenly began to fall around Miranda. She looked up into the rain as if waiting for an answer. She wondered if it was her fault. Maybe if she had been there three minutes earlier she could have prevented it. Maybe if she had listened more, instead of butting in. Maybe if she had told someone about her abusive parents, she could have saved her. Miranda stared out blankly. She could no longer decipher her tears from the rain.
She took off running out of the garden, down the road towards her home. She ran for miles before finally collapsing in the middle of the road, falling to her knees helplessly. She screamed as loud as she could, asking for a response from God.
Miranda’s eyes were shocked to see a silhouette of a person appear from a bright, majestic light. The person was a female. Tiffany. Miranda stared at her with awe, contemplating whether this was a blessing or an act of the devil.
Finally, Miranda mumbled one word.
“Why?” Miranda’s whole body convulsed from the vast amount of crying that ceased to stop. Her whole body felt empty.
Tiffany said, “It was a chance to get away from the grief, away from the pain. . .” Miranda cut her off.
“Tiffany, suicide is a sin. First Corinthians chapter three verse sixteen says, ‘Don’t you realize that all of you together are the temple of God and that the Spirit of God lives in you? God will destroy anyone who destroys this temple. For God’s temple is holy, and you are that temple.” She stumbled on the last few words, unable to continue stating her friends fate. Tiffany stared blankly.
“Don’t you see. The pain here is nothing compared to what awaits you. . .”
“I know.” This time it was Tiffany that cut Miranda off. “I made the wrong decision, but God has brought me before you as a tool- someone to learn from. There’s nothing you can do for me now, however don’t let this message abscond your grasp.” The light began to fade.
“No,” Miranda yelled struggling to get to her knees in time. By the time she had arrived at the site of the light, it had dissolved into the road once more. Miranda dashed off to her house, ran through the front door, and closed herself up in her room. She cried herself to sleep. She knew that tomorrow would be completely different, and this whole thing would be a dream.
Tomorrow came and the reality of the situation began to sink in. She arrived in her first hour class early. She sat her backpack down in the chair. There was only one other person in the room. It was quiet.
Finally Miranda said, “I can’t believe Tiffany would do something like that.”
The boy said, “I actually thought about that a couple of times.”
Miranda asked the boy the same question she had asked Tiffany. Miranda got the same answer.
“It would be a relief from the pain, relief from the guilt. My parents hated me anyways.”
“Pain? Suicide is a sin. Think of what awaits you if you had committed suicide.” Miranda wrote down the bible verse on a sheet of ripped notebook paper. “Read this,” she said.
“What makes you think your parents don’t like you?” Miranda asked softly. She felt like she was talking to someone hanging by a thread, a delicate thread. Miranda listened carefully and intently as he told her his story. Miranda would insert her advice occasionally, however she mostly just listened.
The next day the boy said that it was nice talking to her, and that he had read the bible verse. He said, “Thanks.”
Miranda realized that she had passed on Tiffany’s message. Tiffany truly had not died in vain.
This story is partly based on a real life experience at my high school. All names have been changed and for all intense purposes this story is fiction. It was originally written in 2009.