I’m recovering, I really am. From the shock, from the sadness, from the anger… I’m recovering.
Yesterday was a bad day for me. I keep thinking about him and about his choice to take his own life. He was not the first person I know who took his own life. The first one was a good friend’s brother, his only brother.
I was not close to Mr. D, at least, close enough to feel incredibly angry for his actions; to shout out, “This is not fair! You’re being unfair! You’re being selfish!” as I imagine his family and friends would react to his actions. But his death and the reminder of my friend shouting those words out as I comfort him during his mourning made me angry.
The Story of S’ Brother
When I did not hear from my friend for two weeks, I became worried. I didn’t know where he was and didn’t have any means to call him. When he finally contacted me, he told me the news. I was heartbroken, for him and for myself for I will never get the pleasure of getting to know his brother whom he fondly talks about.
“He would have been 21 today, you know?” S said, out of the blue, a year after his brother’s death. “Why did he do it? He was so selfish!” He said, angrily.
On other days, we would talk about his brother and their memories together. Casually, he said, “He’s brave, you know. Too brave. I wish I was brave enough to take my own life,” to which I responded, “Shh… Don’t say that.”
When he gets too depressed, S would talk about the idea of suicide. He would romanticize the idea, which would upset me very much. “Perhaps problems will be gone. Perhaps this is the only way and he knows it. He’s smart, very smart.”
I hate it when we have those talks, when he romanticizes the idea. “You know…” I said, almost crying. “I would really hate you if you take your own life and leave me just like that. I would never forgive you.” My eyes tearing.
That’s the problem with people who have suicidal tendencies or are depressed, they think that their life is their own and nobody else have any say to it because they think that nobody else will be affected by it. They’re wrong, so wrong. I mean, it may be unfair for me to be possessive over someone else’s choice on whether they should or should not do something with it because it is THEIR LIFE, but when it is a question on whether they can take their own life or not, I feel like I am obliged to do something about it. To probably shout, “No! You have no right to choose that!”
You can do whatever you want with your life; your career path, your relationship, your fashion etc… But if there’s one thing you don’t have power on, it’s your choice to kill yourself.
This ‘choice’ does not only involve you. You will not be the only to bear the burden, despite the fact that you are the only one feeling the pain and nobody else understand this pain. We feel sad that you are tortured and although it seems like we do not care, it is only because we do not know how to handle this situation. You need to tell us what you want us to do or to say.
But at the same time, we, as your loved ones, must also be receptive and responsive enough to your needs whenever we see you sad. We can’t just rely on your giving us hints because you never will give hints. We must and should react to the slightest hint of problem that you exude. That is our responsibility as someone who loves and cares for you dearly.
The suicide of Mr. D brought the whole school in tears. Two Facebook pages (one by students and colleagues and the other one by family members) dedicated to happy memories of Mr. D as well as silly pictures and videos of him were posted for everyone to be reminded of who he was. We are all celebrating his life and not thinking about his death not because we are in denial, but rather, we chose to remember him as he is; the goofy, caring and inspirational Mr. D.
Anyway, my point of writing this post is just to remind people with suicidal tendencies that when you go, your problems may end but your loved ones will suffer.
We will cry, scream, be angry, remember the good old days, go through pictures, smell your shirt, sleep on your bed, not eat, not concentrate well on things, keep questioning your actions, smell your perfume and go through your things over and over again.
We will miss you and we will keep wondering… What if you didn’t kill yourself? What if I knew what you were going through? What if I was a better friend/family/daughter/son/mother/father? Do you not love me enough that you’d leave me forever?
It’s too late for that now.