The following story was written in memory of Shari, my first-born.
It is a story filled with hope, not just for Shari, but for all 
those lost to suicide. I dedicate it to all those who have lost 
a loved one to suicide. May you find comfort in my experiences.

Chapter one: Rabbits of Hope

Nestled on a hillside, a gravestone with a butterfly etching
hints of a tragedy with the inscription,  "May 2, 1974 - May 1,
1991".  Shari died one day before her seventeenth birthday. But the
stone does not tell of the enduring pain that remains etched into 
the lives of those who loved her.

I was at work that afternoon, my husband was returning from
Boston by car, a six hour drive.   My younger daughter was playing 
JV Lacrosse.  Shari had taken some friends downtown to rent tuxes 
for the prom.  Around 5:00pm, I noticed the sky growing dark.  I 
wondered about my fourteen year old out on the Lacrosse field. An 
unusual sense of dread began to overcome me.  I was not sure why I 
felt so fearful. Didn't I trust her coaches to get the players off 
the field in case of lightning?  I went to the phone to see if 
Shari was home and could go check on her sister.  No answer. 
I began to feel more anxious.
 
"Go Home."  I distinctly heard a voice in my head.  I
glanced over at my assistant who was reading a story to the school
age children of whom I was in charge.  She had too many children
to leave her alone and I did not feel I had a legitimate reason to
leave.  "Go Home."  The same strange voice.  I looked outside.  It
was very dark and raining hard. "It's just the storm causing my
anxious mood", I decided.  I finished work at my usual 6:00pm and
headed for home, 15 minutes away.

My husband's car was just making the turn into the driveway ahead of 
me. I was amazed at the timing, since he was coming from Boston.  I 
saw Shari's car parked by the drive.  Inside, the house was strangely 
dark.  Even though the storm clouds had stolen most of the afternoon 
sun, Shari had turned on no lights.  I was puzzled by this darkness 
so, after hiding the presents I had purchased for Shari's birthday, 
I went upstairs to find her.

As I came to the top of the stairway, I saw an amazing sight.  Shari 
appeared to be leaning against the wall by the doorway leading into 
her room.  A soft light from an adjacent window shone on Shari's 
upturned face.  Her lips were parted as if speaking and her palms 
were turned forward.  I can only describe her posture as one of 
supplication to the Lord.  For a split second, I was mystified by the 
powerful emotion that seemed to be portrayed.  In the rest of the 
second, I realized that her feet were not touching the floor.  My 
screams brought my husband upstairs to help me get her down.

I knew that she was dead but I tried to breathe life into her
while my husband called for paramedics.  I told her I could have
forgiven anything, that I loved her.  I pleaded with her to come 
back.  I was suddenly terrified to think that her sister could have
come home early because of the storm and already found her.  As
soon as the terror hit me, I felt an assurance that she was still
playing Lacrosse.  I felt immediately that she was safe.  When the
rescue people arrived, I ran to call a friend, asking her to pick up
my daughter and keep her until we could come for her.  After a few
more agonizing minutes, while the medics worked upstairs and the
local police investigated, I began clutching my stomach in pain. Two
ambulances came, one for her and one for me.  But my pain was
something the emergency room doctors could not ease.  While I
was still attached to the heart monitor, the policeman came to tell
us she was dead and to ask us questions.

For the next few days I could not stop crying.  I was afraid
to sleep because it was such a horrible shock to wake up and
realize that the nightmare was real.  I could not eat much of
anything.  A lot of food appeared however, and I remember being
ever so thankful that at least no one else would starve.  On the
second night, Jim and I tried to sleep upstairs.  I woke myself 
up many times in the night sobbing.  How strange it was to 
know that I was actually crying in my sleep.  I finally fell 
into a deep sleep toward morning.

"What is that glorious music?"  I came awake to the most heavenly sound.
I listened until I was fully awake and realized that the large maple 
outside the window must be filled with a chorus of birds.  I felt as 
if someone had presented to me a treasured gift, that something so 
beautiful would come to wake me up on such a horrible day. 

The funeral was held in the church were Shari grew up and
we buried her on Monday. It was raining gently, not enough to make 
anyone wet. I felt as if the earth was crying.  Although the next 
few days were filled with shock and a horrible feeling of terror, 
I felt the continuous presence of God and the prayers of countless 
people. Gradually the relatives went home and our diminished family 
of three was left to cope with an altered existence.

On the third day after Shari's burial my younger daughter
and I went up to the cemetery to see if we could salvage some of
the beautiful baskets from the floral arrangements laid at her grave. 
On arrival at the grave, I was astonished to see a jumble of flowers,
ribbon and baskets strewn about the area.

Meanwhile, my daughter was trying to turn my attention to another 
sight further down the hill.  As I looked to where she pointed, I 
saw two small rabbits perched nose to nose in the new grass.  
Suddenly, one rabbit shot straight up into the air.  As soon as he 
touched the ground, they both sped off chasing around in a big circle 
higher up toward us, where they again stopped nose to nose.  By the 
time one of the rabbits sprang up into the air a second time, we were 
laughing, right there at Shari's new grave.  Immediately after returning 
home, I walked into the dining room and saw the Easter basket which 
Shari had left there.  I looked in and was startled to see the only 
items left, two miniature chocolate rabbits.

Almost exactly two years later, I went to the cemetery on the 
afternoon of Shari's birth, May 2.  As I stopped my car in the drive, 
I could see a rabbit standing by the side of Shari's gravestone.  I 
quietly got out of my car and moved closer. From where I now stood, 
I was greatly amazed to see a second rabbit guarding the other side 
of the stone.  I truly believe that God sent his creatures as a gift 
to remind me of the joy and wonder still available to me if I would 
allow it into my life. On a shelf in our home, two small chocolate 
rabbits continue to honor Shari's memory and God's gift of love. The 
reminder of God's gentle creatures causing joy in the presence of 
great sorrow helps to pull me through the dark times. 
  
  © Donna S.F. 1998
  

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