No Idea Why She Is Depressed

She is eleven, depressed. Yet she has no idea why. She has mentioned suicide to others, Not to me though. She is a crying machine lately. No one knows why. I lead her out of the bathroom Where she is crouched on the floor, sobbing. She can never pinpoint why she is sad. But I see it in her eyes, And I hear it in her sobs. Today I asked her “no death, hospitalizations, divorce?” She begins to sob again. Her favorite cousin died in May. He shot himself with a gun his daddy left out. They had a balloon celebration for him this weekend On what should have been his fourth birthday. I begin to cry with her.