For the last year, Diana and I have had two identical pictures hanging on our walls, one of her, and one of us, both of them a little kinky (but not so much so that I can’t share them):

Just a few weekends ago, she looked up at the one of us on my bedroom wall and said “You know, one day we’re going to be in an old folks home somewhere, and we’re going to think back on these pictures … and I’ll be like, “Remember that time when you were in grad school and I was a hooker, and we were just trying to get by … and we took those kinky pics together and put them on our walls?””

We could not stop laughing.  We regularly ‘visioned’ together, just like this.

How is it possible that she was able to look at the future, sometimes with joy, excitement and wonder, and then take her life just three weeks later?

I don’t think I will ever, ever understand.


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