I just found out another friend of mine committed suicide. Mike was the most optimistic person I knew. He was always bubbly and lighthearted. He was passionate about many things. Tennis, piano, decorating his house, working in his garden. He was even passionate about the job that worked him to the bone. He’s the last person who would do something like take his own life.
After talking to his partner about his behavior the last week, I think Mike had disappeared already. He wasn’t himself. He called me May 7 and told me how paranoid he had suddenly become. Very suddenly. He read into everyone’s words that they mocked and hated him. No matter what was said. He knew this was serious and asked for my help. I put him in touch with a councelor I know well. Mike called me Monday to say he had met with the councelor and had been diagnosed and was on medication. I didn’t hear from him again.
He had been diagnosed as bi-polar. I don’t know what med he was on. But for someone so up beat and confident to become so fragile so quickly must have made it worse. He snapped, shattered. What a tragedy. What a tragedy.
Two months ago another friend of mine took her life. (Goodby Barbara) (Until we meet again, Barbara)
I’ve been doing well despite my tendency toward depression the past few years. I’ve been very busy, distracted by career issues and somewhat frazzled, obsessed with this blog, and spending less time with the many friends I have. It’s so easy to become complacent, to let time slip away while fiddling with things which may not really matter.
Our lives are really so fragile, always. We don’t really live unless we face that truth daily. With effort, we can notice each little tiny moment as it passes forever into oblivion. We can live with the earnest intention of seeing and living with compassion. We must. Otherwise we are just animals.
Mike’s death (and Barbara’s) remind me that the little things are all we have, ultimately. A smile, a hug, so corney, but they remind us we are connected. Please give a hug to someone you know in honor of Mike and Barbara.
It is tragic that the being that Mike suddenly became saw his life as an empty shore–without vision; without hope; without love. It is a sign of your resilient strength and understanding, however, that you recognize life’s fragility. Those of us who know you well see you making an effort daily to “notice each little moment as it passes forever into oblivion.”
May each of us honor Mike and Barbara every moment of every day.
I’m so sorry to hear about Mike. The mind is such a mystery; it’s impossible to find a sensible reason WHY something senseless like this happens.
i’m sorry for your loss. i almost lost a friend this way as well. good thing i was was able to talk him out of it. it was the worst night of my life.
The only positive thing (and I mean the ONLY positive thing) that comes out of this situation is perhaps a greater love and appreciation for those that still walk with you on this earth.
I’m so sorry about your friend.
I’m sorry about your friend. Yes, it is easy to get too involved in blogging I think. I always try to remain conscious of the fact it is not the real world.