He fell apart with Bubby's death. He would go off into corners, staring at walls; he would refuse to eat dinner; he, once a walking commentary on his favourite TV shows, abandoned television entirely.

He became distant at first; he wouldn't talk to us much, and when he did, he would often lose concentration quickly.

Our mother was troubled, but for awhile, saw nothing out of the ordinary; Peter's new behaviour was only a slightly more melancholy shadow of his old, and as such, no great cause for concern. She listened to him; she hugged him when he cried; she kept at a distance while watching him intensely to see if his mood changed.

It was eight or nine months or so before it did - the new schoolyear had just begun; I was at a new high school, and Peter had just begun fourth grade. I was on the floor of my room sketching a drawing for my art class, when he quietly commented, "I think I'll kill myself."

continue...
posted by Adelaide at 7/29/2000 9:29:59 PM