I started thinking about how many deaths I've actually experienced in my life. I realized that I've only experienced three deaths so far. Out of the three deaths that I've experienced there is one that is very significant to me. My Uncle Guy died when I was eleven or twelve years old. Well actually he committed suicide. I think it was so significant because well he committed suicide and that was my first experience with death. He was such a great presence in my life. He loved to sing along to musicals with me, make piñatas for my birthday, he had themed Christmas trees, and he would always find ways to wrap presents in a clever way. He made my childhood so wonderful!
I remember the day it happened as if it was yesterday. It was a very hot day in July and there had been a terrible storm that had knocked out all of the power. My Uncle Guy had been depressed for a while so my parents were already concerned about him. They hadn't heard from him in a couple of days so my Dad decided to go over to his apartment after he dropped me off at musical theater camp. When my Dad got to his apartment the power was still out so he had to walk up seven flights of stairs in the July heat. My Dad entered his apartment and found him dead. I remember when my Dad picked me up from camp he looked very sad. He sat me down and told me that my Uncle Guy had taken his life by swallowing a bottle of pills. I didn't really understand the idea of suicide at the time. I didn't really comprehend that I wasn't going to be able to see one of my favorite people anymore. That night I couldn't sleep at all. To this day I don't know how my Dad deals with what he saw that day. I think if I had found him it would haunt me for the rest of my life.
Since the day my Uncle took his life I don't like it when people joke about suicide. It makes me uncomfortable and nervous. I try to be more observant of people's behaviors and hope that I can help someone so they don't make that choice. Suicide to me seems so selfish. What about the people you leave behind and hurt? I can't seem to wrap my brain around the idea why there is no other way out but taking your life. There are times I think about him and wish he was here. I wish he was here to see me all grown up and see what I was doing and I hope that he would be proud of me.
It actually turns out that I didn't know the whole truth about my Uncle's death. My senior year in high school I wrote an essay about him and my parents told me that I didn't know the whole story. It turns out that my Uncle Guy actually hung himself from his closet and hadn't swallowed a bottle of pills. I remember being so shocked and angry. I was so mad at my parents for not telling me the truth. I had gone my whole life thinking he had died a different way. But then I thought about why my parents lied to me. How do you tell an eleven year old that one of her favorite people in the world hung himself? I think what my parents did was right. I hope that no one else in my life commits suicide. And I hope that I could help someone else from making that decision. I miss my Uncle Guy very much and I hope he is happy wherever he is.
I think suicide is also hard to deal with because there are so many unanswered questions. There is no closure in a way. I encourage all of you who are reading this to think about a death that is significant to you and why.
I leave you with this quote I found to think about.
"Death in itself is nothing; but we fear
To be we know not what, we know not where." by John Dryden
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2 comments:
I think I understand the idea of sucicide. I've thought about, maybe dreamed about it, but doing it...no, I don't think so. There's always a way out. I think Freud said a dream is an unfulfilled wish. If that's true then the life of the mind can be a scary thing. If I dreamed it, does it mean I could do it? I hope not, but it means your thought life is something to take seriously. Your Uncle Guy was depressed you said, and maybe did not seek counseling or even tell anyone about it. There's the key I think--keeping it a secret, then the mind becomes a fort protecting the idea from the hostile outside world. The idea grows and becomes bigger than anything else. Having someone close to you that you can share your ideas with, someone you trust, lessens the possibility for the vulnerable to self destruct. Perhaps you're Uncle Guy became psychologically isolated even though he was coming to your birthday parties and musicals. In that sense he had a secret inner life. Life is all about relationships and trust, which are fragile things, but they are what makes life worth living even in dark personal moments.
I think your right that if you keep things secret they just build and build until they explode. That's why it is nice to have someone to come home to or just a group of friends that you can really talk to. My Uncle Guy had friends and my family, but he lived alone and I don't think he had anyone to share his secret with. At this point I wish he had because we all would have been there for him, but the past is the past. Your right life really is all about relationships and trust, because without them what do we have?
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