Futile Tears

I cried myself to sleep last night. At forty-nine, I don't do that much. In fact, I don't remember the last time I did. 

Until last night. 

A friend's mother, her mind being slowly stolen by Alzheimers, killed herself yesterday. She threw herself off the Golden Gate Bridge. I never met this woman, but it broke something inside of me. What started as a few sad tears quickly became a deluge that I could not stop. 

Where is the mercy for this terminal disease? Where is the compassion? Sometimes there is no justice, there is just us. And it hurt to realize how afraid, how brave, how hard her decision had to have been. 

My heart goes out to my friend, his wife, his son, and his father.