WHEN YOU KILL YOURSELF

February 17, 1995

You are not a failure unless you think failure is final. Failure is only a signpost. It tells you that you're going in the wrong direction. You've got to go in a new direction. Failure is not necessarily a dead end."
                                                        Jean Mayer - former President of Tufts University

A year has passed since I began this chronicle as a journal towards suicide - a vagabond's wanderings and ramblings toward death. It was Ash Wednesday and as I wrote the words, "Remember man that you are dust," I expected to be dead exactly three months hence - beginning the transformation from flesh to dust. But I escaped death and in being spared I have been forced to examine my life - and all its past sequences and consequences. And in so doing, I have recognized and acknowledged the harm and damage to my psyche - and I have seen the importance of finally being able to properly bury the past and have seen the need for a fresh start at life by simply living in the present. Thus I venture forth on my journey back to life.

In his book Darkness Visible, William Styron writes, "Loss in all its manifestations is the touchstone of depression - in the progress of the disease and most likely, in its origin." My grandfather's suicide was the loss that started my descent into the deep darkness of depression and despair. A dozen years later Anne's suicide accelerated my descent until I found myself in a black mental hole from which I couldn't escape. For decades I faked my way through life as I was trapped in the past - their deaths hounding me with punishing and penetrating persistence. And as I experienced other losses my ability to cope kept diminishing - until all that remained was the decaying desire of death.

It was either Doctor Daniels or Doctor Silbret who told me months ago that how a young person experiences the first death of a loved one can be life forming - can shape one's life for years to come. When two such deaths are by suicide it can be life devastating. The deaths of my grandfather and Anne robbed me of life because suicide is a vicious vice that squeezes the life out of those left behind - leaving them feeling deserted and desolate. And it also leaves the mind reeling with questions, the brain overloaded and overwhelmed with "what if's" and "if only's" - questions without answers, scenarios without solutions, conceptions without conclusions. It is only in the rear view mirror of life, which is often distorted and out of focus, that we see suicide as being preventable - for in realty, it often isn't. Most suicides are not preventable because the person attempting suicide keeps his/her intentions secret - and it's impossible to prevent that which you know nothing about.

I see my grandfather's and Anne's suicides much differently today than I did a year ago. For decades I have badgered and beaten myself, wondering and worrying incessantly about what I could have done to help them, what I could have done to save them? Through my own suicide attempt I have come to realize that there was nothing I could have done - just as no one could have helped me or saved me. They meant no harm nor did they see that suicide disfigures the future of those left behind. In death they sought only hope, just as I did.

Emily Dickinson wrote, "The distance the dead have gone does not at first appear, their coming back seems possible for many an ardent year."  Although my mind always knew that they would not becoming back, my heart has always waited to see them once again. Such is the yearning of love lost when death is so sudden - when there is no second chance to relive and redo a day that ends in sadness.

Today I am finally released from the bondage and burdens of their suicides - and from the bondage and burdens I created within myself. I have resolved their deaths in my mind and have found resolution and closure. although I cannot recapture the life and love I lost, I can begin my life anew without regrets, with no reservations. This enlightenment brings forgiveness to my soul and offers hope to my being. And they are finally at peace within my heart.

Saint Augustine wrote, "The key to immortality is living a life worth remembering." I am not sure how many people are alive that still remember my grandfather and still remember Anne? I'm sure there are a few with faded memories. But I remember them, their images are clear, and as long as I do they will have achieved immortality - for they each lived a life, however brief, worth remembering.

I miss them but shall no longer morn them, no longer will I be haunted by their deaths. But I shall be forever grateful that they lived - and that I knew them and loved them. For a brief moment in time, they lived and were part of my life, And each, in their own way gave me warmth, friendship, happiness, joy and love - such wonderful and precious gifts. I was blessed by their presence - and that is what I shall now remember and cherish daily.

We all have a past we have past we have been forced to live with, a past that is a thriving and tempting thief that robs us of time present - a past we must surrender before we can seek peace. It can be a difficult struggle before we find peace with the past. But we must persevere in our efforts, persevere through all the obstacles our minds and souls create. We must persevere until we succeed in freeing ourselves from the shackles that hold us prisoner to a time long gone.

Death is life's curse and it eventually separates everyone from each other, it is the constant changing cycle of life. But death is not final if those who we love still live vividly in our memories - and if the love in our hearts never fades.

Today is the anniversary of Anne's death and when I close my eyes and drift back in time, I see her soft and splendid soul and the radiant rays of her spirit - and I hear myself whisper, "When I last saw your smiling face, it was full of goodness and grace." You are loved and  missed, absolutely adorable Anne. May she and my grandfather rest in peace, may they be forever robed in heavenly clothes.

When I finish this entry I am putting this journal aside - for how long I do not know. What I do know is that everything written within these pages is now in the past, not to be forgotten - to be remembered but not relived. A year in my life, a year of mental wanderings - a year of tragedy, trepidation and tribulation. But also a year of redemption, revision and renewal, an unexpected reprieve and life restored - a year in a life.

I am thankful that my failure wasn't final, that the dead end road I traveled on offered an unexpected escape. Now I am going in a new direction, traveling on a road that holds the promise of a much better life - and what a difference it has made.

3:15pm   -   Corpus Christi Church   -   Sandwich, MA

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