Last night I got back from a funeral in Melbourne for one of my closest friends who died earlier this week on Monday night. She killed herself in a bathtub using a sharpened knife from the kitchen.
She was buried in a cemetary on the outskirts of Melbourne after a short service in a local church.
I was called on my mobile phone on Tuesday morning by her cousin who was the first person her mother called after discovering her body in the bathtub. Her mother saw that the bathroom light was still on in the early hours of the morning and went to investigate. She opened the door and screamed so loudly that her next door neighbour came over to check that everything was alright.
Before her neighbour even made it to her house she had called the ambulance, but by that time it was too late. Straight away after calling the ambulance service she rang the same nephew that called me, who lived only two blocks away. He sped all of the way to their house and ran straight in to find her mother sitting on the steps leading out of the back door of the house, crying her eyes out.
After receiving the phone call, I immediately made plans to travel to Melbourne the following morning. I boarded the 8am train. I arrived at the house of the nephew at about midday on Wednesday to one of the most grim sites that my eyes have ever seen. The girls mother was sitting at the kitchen table. She had obviously been crying all night and hadn't got much sleep.
The service was Friday morning. There weren't many people there. All that were there were very close to the family and there was not a dry eye in the church.
The burial followed. After the eulogy I threw a single rose into the grave. That was her favourite flower.
I retuned to my home town last night and went straight to bed.
-This was written with tears running down my face. The actual events from Monday night to midday Wednesday were told to me by the girl's cousin who rang me on Tuesday. | 
