Suicide is Painless

 

The song November Rain by Guns N’ Roses was probably the most memorable tragic song I’ve ever heard in my entire life. After the heartrending marriage I had, I never thought the second relationship would be more than wretched if not equally tragic, and the song November rain speaks of it until now.

 

I can still remember how she played it on piano whenever she felt down and sad, viewing her from behind while she almost silently played each note from the song. I can’t remember exactly why she liked that song, but there is something in its melody that creep me out whenever I hear it--not to mention viewing the music video of that song.

 

Our relationship behind that song is in the same way as rocky; her Mom and Dad tenaciously disagreed beside the fact that she’s already old enough to make decisions. It came to a point that they would do almost anything to break us apart--that relationship caused me more heartaches than anyone could accumulate in their entire existence.

 

We couldn't be broken apart; the arranged marriage her parents set up for her to the guy they liked for her couldn't actually impede our relationship—and suicide was an option. Three suicide attempts happened. They came one after the other as soon as she was discharged from the hospital, and strong enough to plan a new suicide. After the third one, her body surrendered; she fell deeply sick and needed to undergo heart transplant. She had a previous heart condition aggravated by the overdose of Ecstasy and three attempted suicides.

 

Although the heart transplant was quite successful, she can’t remember a thing. Amnesia was on her parent’s side, forgetting about me is the next best thing that happened to their plan to break us. But her brother, who from time on helped us see each other secretly, was always on her hospital bed side in my absence. I was banned from seeing her in her sick condition. He always played the song November Rain on her CD player repeatedly every hour of the day, thinking it would bring back her memory. She often woke up after hearing the song, in deep thought and would cry incessantly.

 

After some time, she called me on the phone, although she vaguely remembered me. In her hospital bed she would cry endlessly as if trying to pour out rains of emotions. Her new heart wasn’t working efficiently with her body. Her mom flew her from Subic Bay via private plane. She died December 13, 2003 in Seattle Washington before she reached the hospital.

 

I can still remember how the music video of that song November Rain ends: a bunch of roses thrown at the descending casket of Axl’s wife in the middle of the pouring rain, and as it reaches the casket, it bleeds. Strange coincidence, strange resemblance, only this time rain didn’t happen late November but early December. I still wish I was there to witness her burial.