When Tragedy Strikes

The world is a sadder place today than it was last week. In Long Island, NY they are laying to rest a dear friend of mine. Last week I received the terrible news that my friend had taken his life. I can't imagine the strength it took his significant other to reach out to me and deliver the news. My heart breaks for him and his family.

I'm still trying to comprehend this news, knowing that I will never see my friend again. It doesn't make sense; he was always smiling, always planning future endeavors, always making people laugh. To think that there was something going on inside him that he never shared with anyone that eventually took him from us is so incredibly devastating. His wasn't an act of cowardice or resignation. He must have struggled with demons for years and last week they overtook him.

The worst part is the not knowing. Was he scared? Did he have regrets? Did he think he was sparing his loved ones his burden by never divulging?

The worst part is the overwhelming grief and loss we are left with. I can't imagine what his family is going through, burying their 30-year-old son, brother, uncle. He had plans to move in with his partner in the fall. As much as I tried, I know I came up short in trying to comfort this person, who in the past six years has become a friend. What can you say that doesn't sound like a generic Hallmark card?

The worst part is imagining my friend living with something so terrible that it eventually got the best of him. He was one of the smartest, most charismatic, generous people I knew. He loved learning new things and meeting new people. He was always orchestrating beach days and bar crawls and inviting you up to his cabin in New Hampshire. To think that there were things going on inside him that he felt he couldn't talk about with loved ones or a therapist, to think that these things made him think he had no other choice is truly, truly heartbreaking. 

Everything that happened is the worst part. That's the thing about suicide, it's all the worst part. There's nothing to comfort yourself with when you have a loved one who would rather take their life than continue to fight. I know it must have been a fight; he was one of the most selfless people I know, and there's no way he would have done this because it was "the easy way out."

Anything I wanted to write about now, June goals and new summertime plans, seem rather ridiculous in light of this tragedy. How do you go on, knowing the world is a darker place now without him? Maybe we take small comfort in the fact that he is at peace now. This is a totally unknowable presumption, another trite line in a greeting card, but it's all we have. So I'm going to cling to it.