I heard some shocking news on my dog-walk in the park yesterday. Two weeks ago, a local girl deliberately jumped in front of a commuter train and killed herself. She was 18 years old and had been in the same kindergarten class as Kay. Although Kay changed at the age of 5 to another school for her infant and junior years, we would occasionally bump into this girl around the locality and swap news. Her mother walked her dog in the same park as me and, when our arrivals coincided on rare occasions, we would stop and chat about our girls - both only-children, both bright and clever, both our pride and joy. The story goes that the girl was being bullied at her London university and had just been dumped by her boyfriend. The results of the inquest are still to come.
I hate to think she had nobody to turn to and was so desperate. She was still living at home too. The news is haunting me. It keeps rolling around in large technicolour pictures in my mind, when I make a cup of tea, sit at the computer or walk the dog. The thoughts won't go away. They remind me how tenuous life can be and why we should never stop telling our children (even when they tower above us, however old and grey they get, and despite all the daily chores that pre-occupy us) that we are always there for them in times of trouble and love them very much, no matter what they do or don't do.