The InstigatorThe People Who Shaped Me Writing Contest was a part of the 2023 Salem Reads: One Book, One Community, which delved into the themes and messages of Born a Crime by Trevor Noah. The contest invited writers to submit essays, creative nonfiction and fictionalized stories that honored real people who had a profound impact on their lives.
1st place
The Faces I Can’t Remember by Rebekah Pippert
To The Faces I Can’t Remember
It was 2014 in early September when you saved me from the pedestrian bridge over the Willamette River. I was 23 years old and at the beginning of mental health treatment at Northwest Human Services West Salem Clinic. My new medication hadn’t yet the time to build up in my system, and my Counselor barely knew of the trauma I needed to process. Though I had new Pastors investing their time and love in me, I was still not in a stable state of mind, so when my best friend called to essentially “break up” with me, I spiraled.
The sun was blight, hardly a cloud in the sky, unusual for the Willamette Valley. I know this, because of the warmth, and lack of shadow or rain. Otherwise, I would not have known for the heavy haze I walked through. One moment l was attending a football viewing party, and the next I was sitting on the railing, gazing into the rippling Willamette River. The current looked slow, but faster near the pillars of the bridge. I wondered if it was strong enough to keep me under if I jumped. All I could think was that I was a burden on my family, friends, and the city.
Feeling utterly useless, with no talent, no job, no house of my own, emotionally and physically exhausted to the point of senseless pain, I thought the most selfless choice I could make would be to remove myself from the physical world. The tears stored deep in my chest threatened to rip a hole through me, but I remained numb, hypnotized by the water below. People passed me by, I could hear them walking, some riding their bikes, but you did not ignore my scream for help.
I believe you were two ladies, perhaps out on a late afternoon run for the day was beautiful. You stopped and asked if I was okay. I cannot recall if I looked at you. In my mind your faces are fuzzy, out of focus, maybe I did not wear my glasses, or the haze in my head was simply that thick. I told you I was fine and could hear wavering in your voices as you asked me to come back to the safe side of the railing. In wanting you to leave me alone, I conceded to your request and jumped back onto the pavement with every intention of climbing over the edge again. I sat down beside my purse and the journal containing a scribbled note I left.
“I’m So sorry
I Can’t do this
anymore! I’m
So tired of the
Cycle. I ruin
everyone’s lives
not just mine”
I thank God that those were not my last words for you did not go away but called the police. Salem Police Officers came and took me from the bridge. They protected me from myself by escorting me to the hospital where I had time to process the spiral I slid down. I was able to call my Pastor and was free to talk or not talk. We got pie and I lived through the night.
Today, I may not look successful by society standards. I am grieving many losses from the past few years, much like the rest of the world. I still struggle with my health mentally and physically, recently discovering I have a lesion on my Pituitary Gland, but one of my biggest dreams has come true due to you. Without you, the faces I can’t remember, I would not have met my husband in 2015, nor would I have given birth to my son in 2021. My son, William Philip Wesley, his bright smile is worth all the suffering I have or ever will end me. I will continue to persevere, thank you to whomever you are, for my life.
This story originally ran in Press Play Salem issue 16 (Spring/Summer 2023)
