I woke up this morning to the realization that something a friend told me many years ago should be my mantra. I had once more been disappointed by someone I trusted and I said, "I really thought I knew him better than that."
To which he replied, "You never really know anyone. You just know of them. You know what they let you see." And he was right.
I deal with many people, some more closely than others. We talk and with some of them, we talk for hours. We share secrets. We share our inner most thoughts, hopes and dreams. Do we really? As I look back over the trail behind me, I am astounded at how many of my friends have only let me see the outer veneer that covers their tortured soul.
We are placed on this earth by some divine plan to live our lives, hopefully, in peace and harmony. Some of us have more peace and harmony then others, I have found. It breaks my heart when I lose a friend to suicide. Suicide is defined in the dictionary as "the intentional taking of one's own life." It does not tell us why. And yet the why is the first question we ask, isn't it?
And we search our memory and we recall the relationship we had with that person. At least I do. I remember the last time I saw him. Right here at my table not very long ago. He was a computer genius and he worked really cheap for his friends. He loved cookies and I had his favorite kind. I will make them again for his memorial service.
We can read all the psychology books and watch for the signs, but we never see them. Is it because I let my guard down, or because the signs were never there, or did I just not want to see them? Hind sight is 20/20 looking back, isn't it?
Many years ago when I was a Senior in high school I had a friend in Stenography class whose name I can not recall right now. He went home one afternoon after school and hung himself in the garage. Were there signs? I never saw them and looking back I still don't.
Kenny and I had a friend 30+ years ago. Kenny was working in Denver and was gone all week, leaving me alone. He called every night and this friend knew that. He would show up every night and set at the counter and drink coffee and reading truck books. When Kenny called, he would talk to him for a few minutes and then he would leave. It was never a conversation, really, just a "hello how are you?" One afternoon he went home and put a bullet in his brain. We never saw it coming.
So as I set here contemplating another memorial service I wonder about the very act of suicide. No one ever says, "Well, I am just going to put my head in the gas oven and be done with it." That would make it too simple. So I shall do what I have always done, put one foot in front of the other and blindly go where I have always gone. Maybe today I will make a difference to someone looking into that abyss.
Maybe not.
To which he replied, "You never really know anyone. You just know of them. You know what they let you see." And he was right.
I deal with many people, some more closely than others. We talk and with some of them, we talk for hours. We share secrets. We share our inner most thoughts, hopes and dreams. Do we really? As I look back over the trail behind me, I am astounded at how many of my friends have only let me see the outer veneer that covers their tortured soul.
We are placed on this earth by some divine plan to live our lives, hopefully, in peace and harmony. Some of us have more peace and harmony then others, I have found. It breaks my heart when I lose a friend to suicide. Suicide is defined in the dictionary as "the intentional taking of one's own life." It does not tell us why. And yet the why is the first question we ask, isn't it?
And we search our memory and we recall the relationship we had with that person. At least I do. I remember the last time I saw him. Right here at my table not very long ago. He was a computer genius and he worked really cheap for his friends. He loved cookies and I had his favorite kind. I will make them again for his memorial service.
We can read all the psychology books and watch for the signs, but we never see them. Is it because I let my guard down, or because the signs were never there, or did I just not want to see them? Hind sight is 20/20 looking back, isn't it?
Many years ago when I was a Senior in high school I had a friend in Stenography class whose name I can not recall right now. He went home one afternoon after school and hung himself in the garage. Were there signs? I never saw them and looking back I still don't.
Kenny and I had a friend 30+ years ago. Kenny was working in Denver and was gone all week, leaving me alone. He called every night and this friend knew that. He would show up every night and set at the counter and drink coffee and reading truck books. When Kenny called, he would talk to him for a few minutes and then he would leave. It was never a conversation, really, just a "hello how are you?" One afternoon he went home and put a bullet in his brain. We never saw it coming.
So as I set here contemplating another memorial service I wonder about the very act of suicide. No one ever says, "Well, I am just going to put my head in the gas oven and be done with it." That would make it too simple. So I shall do what I have always done, put one foot in front of the other and blindly go where I have always gone. Maybe today I will make a difference to someone looking into that abyss.
Maybe not.
