Waiting for Monday

Yesterday, I decided to partake in one of my most favorite guilty pleasures. I went tanning. I know all the "why's and how's and what if's" about why I shouldn't do it. However, I love to go. I love the warmth and the tan (of course). I only find that I go in the Spring. Maybe it's because I'm digging out my short sleeve shirts and (sometimes) wearing my shorts and I HATE my lily-white-glow-in-the-dark skin. So I tan.

While waiting for the tanning bed to empty out and get cleaned, I was thumbing through People magazine when I ran across an article about Marie Osmond and a book she has written about her son that committed suicide in 2010.

I remember watching the Donny and Marie Show when I was a kid. I thought Marie was soooooo pretty. I wanted to dress like her. Sing like her. Roller skate like her. Nope. Never happened. But it was fun to pretend.

So I read the article.

Marie had performed a full week in Las Vegas and was staying at the Flamingo when her phone rang at about 1:30 in the morning. It was the guard at her gate from her Los Angeles home neighborhood. Someone was there from the coroner's office and they were sending someone to see her at the Flamingo in Vegas.

Marie writes:

On February 26, 2010,my sweet son left me, his family, and friends by jumping from the balcony of his eighth floor college apartment in Los Angeles. Even as I write this I want to cry out, "Please, don't let this be true." 

Marie had talked with Michael and they had made plans for Marie to fly home and to visit with him on Monday. Michael killed himself.

I guess the Osmond family gave Michael the nickname "Mallard". Apparently when he was younger he looked like a baby duck to them and the name stuck.

At the end of the article, Marie talked about ducks and said "on top they are serene and beautiful. Below they are paddling like crazy to stay afloat."

I wonder how many mallard ducks walk amongst us.  I worry about the times I think the people I love are fine, but are secretly paddling like crazy to stay afloat. How many times do I think "I'll do it on Monday."

What if Monday doesn't come?