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On suicide and sadness – a perspective

We drove the road. We hiked the trial. We knelt beneath the tree where you sat before slipping away. What courage it must have taken for you to make your exit. I honor you for that.

When I first heard the news I was shocked, then sad, then glad and mad. But you, my friend, were not the cause of my commotion, my pain. That arose in me, in the schism between the friend I regretted I was, and the one I believe I could have been. Should have been. The friend who reached out more, cared more, connected more. Who advised, coached, cajoled …did …more ….of something, anything, to relieve your pain. The war that raged between the All-mighty Friend who believed she could have made more of a difference, and the Powerless-to-help other, who now felt relieved by your passing, was, I realized, the real source of my anguish. Not you.

When I put all that aside and really thought of you, I felt neither sad, nor glad, but graced. Quietly. Calmly. Graced.

In life and death you were a gift. You’ve enriched my life in more ways than you’ll know. For that I thank you.


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