January 7, 1995

"No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the truth."
                                                         Nathaniel Hawthorne  -  The Scarlet Letter

On Wednesday afternoon I was at the library in Chatham when I noticed two of my so called friends from Holy Redeemer by the front desk - John, the President of the Men's Club, and Lenny, the President of the Saint Vincent DePaul Society. When our eyes met they turned and walked away, right out the side door - without saying hello or asking how I was doing. Back in May and June I shared my soul with them, asking for their help and begging for any assistance they could provide. They listened to my pleas, offered to help and then abandoned me without another word - even ignoring me at morning Mass until I finally stopped going and disappeared. I hadn't seen them in months and when our eyes met, I was just a sad and shady stranger not worth acknowledging - an ostracized outcast that had to be avoided. Their behavior hurt me and angered me, pissed me off.

Until I saw them at the library I had forgotten about John and Lenny and what they did to me when I needed them - depended upon them and the kindnesses they promised but never delivered. Memories that are best buried can easily be resurrected, relived with regret and remorse. For the the scarlet letter isn't A for adultery but A for assholes.

When I was in grammar school, either the fifth or sixth grade, I had a nun who always used to say, "When you hitch a wagon to a star, you better make sure it's a star on the rise." I have always remembered those words because for most of my life I have hitched my wagon to superficial stars, shrinking and sinking stars - and to shallow stars like John and Lenny.

But not all stars have faded and fallen. Since leaving the hospital I have been able to capture and hold onto a few stars on the rise, my doctors and the Samaritans - the brightest being the Samaritans. The three women who act as counselors for the support group, Joanne, Jane and Jackie, have become true friends who love me, care for me and want nothing but the best for me. At Thursday night's meeting I told them what happened to me at the library - how John and Lenny saw me, then turned their heads and bolted.

What I learned from them was this - what happened to me, how I was treated, rejected, abandoned and avoided by those I had initially depended upon for their help and support, was not unusual. What I experienced is not only shared by most people who survived a suicide attempt, but it is also sadly shared by those who have lost a loved one to suicide. The underlying cause for this is fear, the average person is frightened by suicide - and as a result most people don't know how to act or what to say to those who have been affected by suicide. And since they don't know what to do or what to say, they find it easier to simply turn away, to withdraw and walk away. Somehow they believe that by avoiding their fears, they can make them disappear - never realizing the pain they cause to those they shunned. For in times of sorrow all hearts are fragile.

For the past few days I've been thinking about what they said, about the fear people may have and why they sometimes behave the way they do. And I came to another conclusion and it is this - at one time or another most people have contemplated suicide and then quickly buried the thought into the deepest, darkest closets of their mind. But buried doesn't mean forgotten. Every time they hear the word suicide or must face those who have been unfortunately affected by its dire consequences, they remember their long ago thoughts. Their closet doors open and they see suicide as if it was a contagious disease that must be avoided at all cost. What they fear most is themselves, their shallow and selfish self.

Fifty years ago today my mother and father were married. It was a snowy Sunday afternoon and my father was home on leave from the Navy. They honeymooned in New York City and lived happily ever after - then death arrived five months ago. Since their last anniversary, right up until my father's death, my mother's main concern was that there would be a big surprise party this day - a special, super celebration. She was constantly vocal and adamant that there be no such party nor celebration. With sadness I am reminded of the phrase, be careful what you wish for - be careful what you pray for. Or as Oscar Wilde wrote, "When the gods wish to punish us, they answer our prayers.\

There is much truth in Hawthorne's words - at times we all wear different faces, disguising ourselves as we can but fooling no one as we pretend otherwise. I am sure my so called friends from Holy Redeemer are as bewildered about who they truly are as I am. H. L. Mencken wrote, :Don't overestimate the decency of the human race." My failure was that I overestimated their decency and in doing so they betrayed my trust - now they wear different faces they can't disguise.

10:30pm   -   My Childhood Room   -   Randolph, MA

contact: fortheheartcries@gmail.com

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