He made the mile long walk to the lake every day since the death of his wife. Staring out beyond the lake at the dreary horizon, he was convinced the police had it all wrong. They’d spun this tale that Susan drove herself into the lake to die. That couldn’t have been the case. Susan was the life of the party, she radiated joy wherever she went. They lamented Susan was recovered without wearing her seatbelt. There was no blunt force trauma that aided in her death.
Evidence stated Susan had more than enough time to escape the sinking vehicle, the door was even unlocked. She’d sat there waiting for the murky water to overtake her. The thought of water filling her burning lungs was too much to bare! Weeks after her burial, two messages were left on the answering machine addressed to Susan. Her doctor was concerned she hadn’t shown for a scheduled check-up and urged Susan to contact her as soon as possible.
The last message was from her therapist. Therapist?! He hadn’t known she had a therapist. There seemed to be a lot he hadn’t known about Susan. He never saw the signs of depression or that she was sick with terminal lung cancer. She’d never informed him.
As he stood at the edge of the dock, he contemplated his death as he did every single time he came to this lake. He wondered how easy it was for her to sit there in her car and watch the water rise eating up the seconds until eternity welcomed her. Had the decision really been that easy? How easy would it be for him to just fall in, face first, inhale water into his lungs and drift away? Would it hurt, would it be quick? Was suicide really worth erasing his life?
He stood a moment longer staring out at the blurred horizon, tears running down his cheeks, walking away with his head lowered and back hunched. No he thought, nothing can be worse than suicide.