Questions without answers

Ugly crime scene

Helium canister of death

“Mind the tape”

“Are you sure you want to see this, I can clean it up…?”

Clutching the hand of my husband of two months

Shaking resolve

A look shared

He’s sure

Such a technical pursuit of answers

“Is this how she did it?”

“Where was she found?”

A large photo of them together sits on the floor

What was she looking at?

She watched them together as kids as she sucked her last breath

Where was she sitting? How was she found? Who found her?

Here in the glider. Slumped in her chair. Her boyfriend.

Questions – questions – questions – questions

All asking the same thing


The officer is patient and timid, they don’t see suicide much in this small town

Was there a note –(why?)

Of course – “police evidence”

When can we see it? (will it tell me why?)

I can get you a copy

The scene fades and a funeral follows

strangers, friends and family

All surprised

All asking – why?

Her funeral program sits in a box in my living room

The picture she stared at hangs on my wall

The glider she died in sits in his mother’s living room

We have lots of reminders of her

But mykids will never meet her

And there is no why


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