Once there was a way...
…to get back homeward. Once there was a way to get back home. Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry. And I will sing a lullaby.” – Lennon, McCartney
A friend’s beautiful, bright, wonderful daughter, Stormy (they/them pronouns), lost their battle with depression Thursday night. They were fifteen. If there’s a greater tragedy than a child taking his/her/their own life, I’m not sure what it is. I look at my fourteen-year-old son and can’t fathom how I could cope without him. My heart aches for my friend, who poured out her heart and soul for her child. Stormy was dearly loved by their family and friends, had a great support system, was in therapy, took medication, and still lost the battle.
Golden slumbers fill your eyes…
Depression is a liar. A hateful, insidious liar. It is no respecter of persons and affects the young, the old, the rich and poor, educated and uneducated, regardless of race or gender. It’s so terrible, a depressed person can utterly convince someone they’re okay. Yes, I’m okay. You can trust me to be alone for two hours. I’m in a much better place mentally. Really.
Depression will say it with a guileless face, and it’s a complete lie.
I know. I’ve been successful at convincing my loved ones of the same. There was a period in my life where I knew without doubt I was a danger to myself and needed to be hospitalized, and yet I convinced everyone I was okay because I was scared. We didn’t have insurance to pay for a hospitalization, I didn’t want to lose my kids and family, my job and grad school, and I didn’t want to admit how broken I was.
Smiles await you when you rise…
Stormy added so much joy to everyone’s lives. One only has to listen to their family and friends talk about them for a few minutes to understand. They were a literal rock star with a funny sense of humor, a Hamilton fan who could discuss the songs’ lyrics with depth and understanding, they were unashamed of their identity and fought to support their fellow LGBTQIA+ community members. Nothing I say will ever begin to describe how wonderful they were. (Are. Were seems unfathomable.)
Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry.
That Stormy lost their battle with depression is a tragedy, yes, but it in no way takes away from the fact that they fought so hard for so long. They fought, and fought, and clawed their way to the surface time and time again. Nothing will take away from their strength. Nothing will take away from their victories.
Stormy Fowler, thank you for adding such joy to my and others’ lives. Thank you for allowing your light to shine brightly for others to see their own beauty. May you rest in light, eternally loved, and at peace.
And I will sing a lullaby.