My neighbor Patricia

I came home from work early today, stopped at the grocery store, and arrived to find my next door neighbor's door wide open with a van loading her belongings. She committed suicide Sunday night. She was one of only two neighbors with whom I talked with any regularity beyond the perfunctory greeting. She was in her eighties, though I don't remember her exact age.

I was shocked, although when I left for work yesterday her newspapers were outside her door along with an envelope with her daughter's name on it. I grabbed the papers, tossed them into my apartment, briefly wondered why she didn't ask me to get them like she usually does when she is away, and went to work as usual. Today's paper was outside when I left this morning, but I still didn't put the pieces together even though the note with her daughter's name was gone. I thought maybe she had gone to the hospital and left a key or something in the envelope.

She and I both fed the feral apartment cats and she mentioned several times in the year and a half I knew her how she wasn't sure how long she would be around and didn't want them to be dependent on her. She said she was glad I and another neighbor also fed them.

I hadn't seen her in several weeks, which isn't unusual, but the last time I did I had just put some food out for the ferals and she was on her way somewhere. She stopped and we chatted while they ate. I noticed absolutely nothing out of the ordinary and she said nothing about wanting to die. Her daughter said she had talked of suicide for the last twenty years and even bought a book telling how to do it. She bought a helium tank that came with balloons, put a plastic bag over her head, a tube in her mouth, and turned it on.

I'm really going to miss her. Sphere: Related Content