Link: adn.com | Heather Lende: Around Alaska : Newcomer's suicide ruffles social scene.
Newcomer's suicide ruffles social scene
HEATHER LENDE
AROUND ALASKAPublished: August 10, 2006
HAINES -- My friend Matt was supposed to be working at his desk at the Chilkat Valley News on Monday morning. Instead, he was writing his sister a letter about how real life sometimes grabs your heart more tightly than fiction, or something like that. He wrote it better.
Matt recently earned a master's degree in English literature. He lives in a cabin at Paradise Cove (it really is) and rides his bike to the newspaper office. I suspect that, like a lot of us, Matt has to pinch himself some mornings to be sure he's not dreaming when he stands in his yard and looks out at the inlet, mountains and Rainbow Glacier.
His letter was about the terrible oddness of his two pressing assignments, the apparent suicide of a doctor at the clinic and a notice about a weekend wedding in the social column.
Matt said the wedding of two friends was so perfect he got all choked up. Neither of us wanted to think of the doctor's death.
But when Matt asked if I knew "her," I knew who he meant. She hadn't lived here long. She had three, maybe four, boxer dogs. Matt recalled how she wanted them in the picture the paper ran when she moved here for the clinic job last winter, but since she was not a vet, the editor nixed the dogs. Later, she advertised for doggie day care in the paper's unclassified-ads page. That was a first for Haines, a dog sitter for when you went to work. But she was single, and if she was on call she might not be able to get away from an emergency to feed or walk them.
But we didn't say much more. It was too awful. Instead, I told Matt to watch it -- if he was getting all blurry-eyed at a potluck wedding, he was becoming like the rest of us, sappy and sentimental and so grateful to be in this place among such people.
I had that feeling Saturday too at a morning birthday party for my friend Nancy (48) and her mother, Darlene (75). It was at Nancy's sister Susan's new house. It was also before we knew about the doctor. The official announcement was made in all the churches Sunday morning. Word had trickled out late Saturday afternoon and evening, but no one wanted to repeat the rumor, in the hope that it wasn't true.
So we ate scrambled eggs with smoked salmon and laughed and clapped as Darlene and Nancy opened presents. The conversation segued seamlessly from our children to changes at the school and even thongs -- the sandals and the underwear. We drank coffee roasted at Mary Jean's cafe.
I was a little late, and Mary Jean arrived later than me. But our friends still greeted us with cheers, and the coffee clutch lasted from 10 a.m. until about 3 p.m. When we reluctantly parted (everyone really did have a lot to do), Darlene got teary and gave me a hug. She said she was so happy we all came. She moved to Haines to be near her daughters and grandchildren after her husband died. She misses him terribly, but I know we are a comfort, because she tells us so. I need to tell her that since losing my mother, I appreciate her presence even more.
I have not always been good about these kinds of gatherings. I used to be too busy. I couldn't just sit around and chitchat. But then I had an accident, and my friends rallied. Darlene kept us stocked with her locally famous banana bread. Nancy was the one who cared for me like a nurse, bravely learning to do the transfers from bed to wheelchair when I couldn't walk. They all said they liked having me as a captive audience. I couldn't do anything then but visit with them.
So I'm glad we didn't know yet about the doctor when we celebrated the birthdays. When it was announced in church Sunday morning, there were gasps and, in the back, someone began to cry. Everyone wondered what they could have or should have done to prevent it, how someone could be so alone among us.
But I really don't want to talk about that. I want to talk about my friend Matt's sentimental reaction to a good wedding and the soft rain, lush gardens, sockeye and blueberries.
I should have invited the doctor for dinner. She wouldn't have had to get a dog sitter; her boxers would have been welcome at our house.
But it is too late. Instead, I'll have the ladies over for coffee sometime soon -- because I love them, and I want them to know it.
Heather Lende lives and writes in Haines and is the author of "If You Lived Here, I'd Know Your Name." She can be reached at hlende@adnmail.com.
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