The experts say, and I believe them, that some of us walking around on this earth are in so much pain that it is unbearable to linger. And further, that for those of us that can manage to put one foot in front of the other, we simply cannot understand the depths of their despair.

I believe this now but nevertheless can’t help trying to understand. I want to understand. 

I think about the gym shorts that Danny hand-washed two days before he killed himself. Those shorts hung to dry in the rental unit bathroom like a flag celebrating the ordinary. It was such a pedestrian act. It was an act that suggested continuity — continuity of habit and hygiene. Wasn’t wanting to be clean for the next visit to the gym a good sign? Didn’t it point to there being a next visit to the gym?

Nothing about hand-washing gym shorts hints at having a fully formed plan to kill oneself. But Danny did have a plan.

I brought salt scrubs for the bath to Longmont. It’s one of my things, bath salts and scrubs. I suggested that Dan use them, particularly on his knees and elbows almost as if he was a battery that had corroded and could be restored. We are, after all, electrical beings, sensitive to light and water and salt. 

One morning in Longmont, I was elated (yes, elated) to see that the bath salts had moved from the bathtub’s rim to the windowsill, indicating that Danny had in fact used them. He was listening. He was scrubbing off the corrosion. He wanted to live, right?

No. No, he did not want to live. 

As he left that final morning, I popped open the fridge and said, “Wait! Your water bottle!” But he shook his head and left without it. That, in retrospect looks like a refusal with import. 

Those days of March were rife with refusals.

But there were also some signs that looked healthy and affirming. He joined a makers’ space and went first to their orientation and next to a training on how to use their 3-D printer. He went back yet again and made a figure on the printer that was teeny tiny because he’d input the wrong dimensions. We thought he’d go back and try again but he never did.

We had some rain overnight. 

One friend brought croissants this morning, another a bunch of purple/blue iris. Yet a third will come this afternoon and help me pick up the catalpa pods that litter our yard. It’s a busier day than usual but I feel up to it.

Today marks one month: March 16, 2026, April 16, 2026. 

Note: Hazel can be found on insta at HazelCMonte and Maggie at rozemadly