Hey Gateway Guy

I'm sitting here now wondering if I did the right thing. How could I ever know? As we headed north across the Gateway Bridge tonight, I looked ahead to see your car, pulled into and stopped in the left hand lane and you, standing upright, alongside the bridge railings. They're high railings and initially you were nowhere near danger. I thought to myself "Fucking schoolies" as we neared your position but in that split second you had managed to pull yourself much higher, so that you were bunched in a heap, right at the top of the bars.

I rubbernecked my way by you and it hit me very suddenly that you were there to do a job. We were almost at the airport by the time the police had taken my details and those I had on you. Strange that I could remember so well what you were wearing, what you'd driven there and even how old you looked. I was able to pinpoint for them which part of the bridge you were on.

Dad and I continued on to the airport to collect Mum, discussing all the while what your situation may have been. As far as we knew, there was still a chance you were clowning about with a car full of friends watching on.

We'd not even fully left the airport grounds when we looked up at the bridge to see it lit up like a Christmas tree; flashing blue and red lights all along the crest. Oh, the nervous feeling in my stomach was overwhelming. I figured we could basically count on you being dead if your car was still there.

We slowed with the rest of the cars nearing the scene and I was amazed (and really glad) at how quickly they'd put together two ambulances, a fire engine, at least five police cars along with some unmarked vehicles too. There, amongst the gathering officers, crouched and gripping the bars from the other side, I saw you. What I felt was near elation; I felt as if I'd saved you with my own hands (which is absolutely ridiculous since you'd yet to be "saved" at that point anyway). How wonderful that they'd reached you in time! But then...

Who was I to put a stop to that? How was it ok for me to step in and change your plan when you were evidently serious enough to have gotten that far in the first place? I know your loved ones would be so relieved, so grateful, but it's not about them, right? I'm so torn. On the one hand I tell myself that tomorrow could be a whole other day for you and you might think "Thank fuck for that chick driving by" but what if it isn't? What if tomorrow is just another day in hell for you; another day of darkness and heartache and sheer distress? Maybe this wasn't even the first time you'd reached such a point and in my interference, I've merely prolonged your misery. I'll never know, either, and already it plagues me. I don't even know if they managed to talk you around or if you did eventually let go. Maybe you're still hanging there, undecided.

I'm so sorry. I hope like hell that you're in somebody's arms right now, being told how beautiful you are and how it is going to be ok. I hope you don't hate me forever and wish I'd merely driven by and left you to it. Forgive me, please; I just couldn't.