A friend decided to leave this earth the other day. Just gone…no goodbyes. Drove to the cemetery, posted a Facebook message asking us to care for her three children and then, shot herself.How do I phrase what happened, i mean, what’s appropriate or accurate, or will bring comfort to others? Shit, what is the protocol? We’re all just awkwardly looking at each other, deafening silence on the other line as phone calls are placed. Arrangements are diligently made by the surviving ones that spring into action but most of us…we just want to sit, stare and avoid the obvious question of why.
On one hand I respect anyones decision to decide. There’s a merit of courage it takes to actually pull the trigger with any amount of faith that this short-little-life is not the end, there is more, whatever you choose to believe.
Personally, I also get angry, kinda offended in a way. I mean, I gotta hang behind and work this crazy life out alone?! She should be here with me, in the mud, working through the tears and fears together, creating the memories we laugh at later as we wipe the sweat from our brow and purge through to be better, to be purer.
Her depression was just more than she could bare. She didn’t just quit or give up, she just couldn’t go any longer. I get it, on a lot of levels. There is a presence of ridiculous gratitude in me, you know, that I made it. Depression almost took me out multiple times when my bones were so tired and there was a comfort in knowing it could all be over with just one little pull of the trigger. Hell you don’t even have to pull it all the way, just a millimeter squeeze, the gun is designed to do the rest.
My breathing becomes restricted when I talk about it. Breathing completely stops when I think about my friend, the experience, what it was like for her at around 12:30pm, December 28th, only a few days after pictures of Christmas with her three children were posted on Facebook.
What do the rest of us do? Me, I write, I emote, I connect, I live the shit real and raw and bring life back to where death creeped in and reminded us that we’re all headed to this place that exists beyond this physical plane of earth dwelling. What do you do? There is no right or wrong, political correctness goes right the fuck out the window, we all grieve in different ways and heal so we can survive.
There is a tap on the shoulder, that reminder of hey…you have to let her go. Actually, we have to let everyone go. Go free to decide for themselves, how we’re going to choose to live, choose to love and choose to keep going…or not. Suicide. Nobody wants to talk about it, yet stats tell us that it occurs every 12.8 minutes. That is a lot of chosen death.
So my friends, what will you decide? You may quickly say, “life!”…peppy smile on your face, repeating a few popular phrases you heard or read. I call bullshit! Your stagnation, old beliefs, fears that cripple…well that’s just slow death, and, it’s cowardly. That’s right, you’re a coward if you’ve never seriously thought of ending this life, never once. It takes balls to live full-the-fuck-on, own your shit and transcend the stuff that forges the crowns of Kings and purges you into right thinking to stand up and be counted. This year, I’m going to keep living…full on, full throttle.
What will you choose? ~Robin