In Memory of Rachel Wall

Dear Rachel,
It was twenty-two years ago this Christmas when you took your own life. Every year I think of you and the times we spent together. You were my best friend.
Remember how we met at the doctor's office? Out in the waiting room? I was pregnant and so were you and that doctor was delayed, so we began to talk. I was so isolated at home with a young toddler (and no car) and I didn't have any friends. You and I hit it off instantly. The next day you invited me to come to your house for lunch and you came to pick me up. Remember you had sat up the night before and crocheted me a baby blanket. It was beautiful.
My daughter and your son were the same age, and they became instant pals. Then later, we both had baby boys to add to the mix.
Remember the Halloween when I stayed there and watched the babies while you took our little ones out for trick or treat? My daughter was four then, and she got so mad because she didn't like her costume I had rigged up at the last minute, a Holly Hobbie flannel gown and pigtails. You said she stood there with her little hand on her hip and said, "I can't believe my mother dressed me in this hot gown! You said she sounded like she was a twenty year old, and you laughed every time you told that story.
We exchanged recipes, had many lunches over egg salad sandwiches because we were short on groceries, but always had so much fun. We talked about our husbands and had some good laughs at their expense. You were like the sister I never had. And I loved you like my sister.
Then I got pregnant with baby number three, and it was a long hot summer. You had a nephew come to stay the summer with you, and you were very busy with the children, so we didn't talk as often. One day I called you and asked you to go to a craft class with me and you said you didn't really feel like going out. I begged and you finally agreed to go. I knew that day something was wrong. You seemed so quiet, so withdrawn. Later we started across the parking lot to our car and I spotted a lady from your church, and I waved at her. She walked over and talked to you for a minute, and you got so mad at me for doing that. You said you didn't want to have to talk to her. I didn't understand.
You told me one day you were thinking of leaving your husband. I said, " Why? What did he do?" You said, "That's just it. He hasn't done anything. If he drank, or ran around, I'd have an excuse to leave. He doesn't do any of that. But I truly believe if he had someone here to cook for him and sleep with him, he wouldn't notice if it was me or someone else." I asked where you would go, and you said you had a girlfriend in the town where you went to college who was willing to let you crash at her apt for awhile. I asked about your children and you said you were not planning to take them. I told you that you had to think about them, and what your leaving would do to them. How much everyone would miss you. You just sighed. I'll never forget the way that sigh sounded.
Then Christmas was coming and you began to decorate and shop and I thought you were better. I didn't know then what depression really was, but looking back you had severe depression. After Christmas, you sent your boys home with your mom with the excuse that you needed a few days to get the house back in order from all the Christmas rush. You came by my apt and brought a box. In it was everything I had ever loaned you. I had an uneasy feeling and asked why you were bringing back all that junk. You said you were just cleaning out closets and decluttering. I believed you.
The next day you got up, cleaned your house, bought groceries, took your husband lunch, and came home and went into the garage, closed the garage door, got in the car, and started it. That's where they found you hours later. By then you were gone. They called me later that night. My husband answered the phone and I knew from his responses what had happened. I was in shock and so sad to lose you. I felt it was senseless. I cried for you. I cried for your children. I cried for me losing my friend. You were only thirty years old.
A few days later, I put an ad in the newspaper personal ads in remembrance. It had a saying you had found on a cross-stitch pattern you liked. It said, "What made us friends in the long ago, when we first met? Well I think I know. The best in me, and the best in you, hailed each other, because we knew, that always and always since life began, our being friends was part of God's plan." And it was. I miss you Rachel.