To me a suicide is a LOUD statement. An act that screams to the world there needs to be more love here.

She lived, until she thought she could no longer. She believed that there's absolutely nothing worth living for in this world. She didn't want her daughter to suffer as she did. She chose to make the jump out of their apartment on the fourth floor of the grey apartment complex. Together, for the last time. Her daughter was only three. Her daughter did not choose to fall. Nor did her daughter choose to be alive without her mother at that young age.  

 The little girl woke up still unable to move in a hospital bed. "Where is mama?" was the question that she was not going to get a real answer to, well at least not for a long time. It's not like the adults have any time to worry about where dead people went. Most of the world didn't even know that something like this happened. Out of the ones who knew, it was not fair for the ones who cared the most; because they were the ones that hurt the most. To live with the pain of losing a loved one, a caring daughter, a loving wife, not knowing if they will truly forgive themselves for letting something like this happen.  

One thing at least, for now, the little girl survived. The daughter of the caring mother, the daughter of the loving wife, the granddaughter of the grandparents who just lost their daughter and the daughter of the father who just lost his wife.  Can she really live up to the expectation of the hope she carried for them? How has this one fall affected her growth and maturation into adulthood?