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Edited on Thu Oct-01-09 05:59 PM by Courtesy Flush
I prefer to call her my friend, though officially she was a client in my caseload (I'm a CPS worker).
I thought she was awesome, and she thought I was awesome, and we spent a lot of time together trying to resolve her problems. Nothing worked, and her life kept getting worse. I had to take her kids, which was hard for me (harder for her, of course). She knew her life wasn't going to get better, and she killed herself.
This was a month ago, and I still cry every day. I've never been so deeply hurt. I cared so much for this girl, and we promised each other that we'd stay in each other's lives after her case was closed, because she always stayed clean as long as she had me in her life (everyone in her personal life was on drugs). I knew her for five years. For three of those years I was her worker. When her case was closed the first time, we didn't stay in touch (except for a couple of phone calls), and she ended up back in my caseload. That's why we made the promise.
I am a 50-year-old man, and she was a 29-year-old girl. I was the same age as her father. I think she kind of saw me as a father. She's the only client I ever had who never called me by my first name. I was always Mr. "Smith" to her, no matter how close we were (I need to stay anonymous online). One day she asked me if I would walk her down the aisle at her wedding. Her father is alive, but she didn't want a crack head giving her away.
Not long ago, she asked me how I came into this line of work. "We've known each other all this time, and I never asked you". I told her she wouldn't respect me if she knew, but she persisted. I confessed that I just needed a job, and CPS was hiring. She smiled and said "God put you here." I can't type this without crying. She really felt that way about me. At her funeral I was approached by several people who thanked me for being there for her. She had always told everyone how much I meant to her.
Earlier this year she asked me when was my birthday. I told her the date, happy that she'd want to acknowledge it. When my birthday arrived, just a month ago, I got a call. It was a supervisor from my office, informing me that my friend was dead. She'd been found in a field. where she had lain in the sun for five days. She took her pills, and called her mother to tell her what she'd done. She told her she was starting to fade. If this was a cry for help, it was an ill-conceived one. Never call a drug addict if you really need help.
I think I'm saying too much, but I can't get this out of my mind. I have a huge hole in my heart and no one to talk to about it. I stop by her grave about once per week, and I still send her text messages. I would do anything to see her again.
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