I've been thinking a lot about how the idea of committing suicide, which people no doubt carry around for months or years, solidifies into this-is-the-moment. And it occurs to me that your brother, Kenny, and your boyfriend, Whitetrash, and the guy I saw -- probably over months or years, they did get that rescue more than once: the dog came in or the phone rang or someone took them out to eat. Those times, they were looking for the life preserver and grabbed it when it was dropped. Then came the time they weren't. That morning, for each of them, I'll bet something happened that they could have used as a life preserver if they'd wanted to, just like before, but that morning something was different, and they left the life preserver lying there.

The Carolyn Heilbrun thing stuns me. I didn't know about that until Sunday. Last time I saw her was not quite 2 years ago. We were on a panel together. She was old-lady-cranky but conspiratorially cheerful about it, moving slowly -- arthritis, I think -- but absolutely as sharp, even brilliant, as ever. Apparently, she'd always said living beyond 60 was optional. (Isn't it always?) Her son says she wasn't ill, but I guess she was deteriorating in a way she didn't like, and decided this was it. I can imagine going out when you seem to be surrounded by endless blackness, but I'm not sure I get it when the blackness seems to be looming, but not here yet.