Someone killed himself last week

The rest of us are wondering why

I was in class on Wednesday getting ready to teach when the text popped up, “self inflicted GSW” I think I gasped. I know I left the room and phoned the texter.

A friend died last week. That was shocking enough, but then we got the details,
that he shot himself. The first thing I thought of was how he always seemed so…chipper, which is not a word I generally use.

But isn’t that the way of things? People do a great job of damning the torpedoes and forging ahead until that they can’t any more. Then the rest of us are left with grief and anger and guilt and other things you wouldn’t wish on an enemy, gifted to you by someone you liked or even loved.

I walked back into the classroom, explained why I’d left so quickly, and then I spent a few moments talking about the impact of suicide, and how it’s a horribly permanent answer to a temporary question. I told the students that if they ever think they’ve reached the end of what they can stand, they should reach out. I told them they could even reach out to me, even years down the road (though I joked that if it was something like 50 years down the road, I am 63 and they should probably have a younger, back-up person). The students were kind, and we dug into the lesson.

We forged ahead, damning the torpedoes.

But after class, I closed my office door to stare at some colored lights I’ve hung in there. I lost a childhood friend to suicide before I had the language to understand what that meant. I also lost an uncle, and very nearly an aunt. I considered it myself once, but instead I called a hotline, got myself into therapy — both single and group — and began buying every book I could find on what was challenging me. Yes, I intellectualized things, but you walk your path and I’ll walk mine.

Looking back, I can work up tears over what I would have missed had I let myself go.

You’d think that skating so close to the abyss would make me more compassionate, but no. I’m left with anger and a deep need to say this: I don’t know your circumstances or who you call when things are overwhelming. I hope you are surrounded by light, love and people who will take your calls no matter the hour. I hope you know that a call to a crisis line — wherever you are — gets you connected to someone nearly immediately. And I hope you understand that if you take the awful step of suicide how very much you’ll be missed, and how very much you’ll miss.