By Degrees

A good friend of mine told me recently that an acquaintance of hers had committed suicide. My friend is a voice teacher, and the gentleman in question was one of her students. Apparently this man was dealing with a Parkinson’s diagnosis, had a lot of financial troubles – on the verge of losing his home – I guess it was more than he wanted to deal with. I have been intimately acquainted with suicide – those that have attempted it, and those that have succeeded. It’s an emotional decision that people try to logically justify – I don’t know if you have known any suicidal people in your life, but someone who is contemplating taking his or her life will sit there and “make a list” of all the reasons why suicide makes sense: I can’t hold down a job, my spouse left me, I can’t succeed at anything I do in my life, I can’t get ahead, nobody is having problems like these, nobody understands… nobody will miss me if I am gone.

I tend to think that people just get tired of the struggle. Because that’s what life is a big majority of the time – a series of struggles. The struggles that drive us, inspire us, that strengthen all of our emotional muscles when we overcome whatever adversity happens to be right in front of us at any particular moment. But after a lifetime of struggles, sometimes it just seems to take more energy to keep on living. I guess I can understand those feelings… people tell me all the time I have a lot of energy, but sometimes it feels like it takes a lot of effort to just get out of bed in the morning.

About a year ago, shortly following the Bunny’s death, one of his stepsons, Nicholas – Nick was the middle kid; the oldest stepson Jesse, and of course the Bunny’s son Trevor being the youngest – killed himself. I didn’t know him well, but during our marriage Nick did visit infrequently. He was always respectful, though I knew he was troubled; he had some issues which required ongoing medication and he suffered from Tourette’s syndrome. When the Bunny came into the picture with Trevor’s mom, Nick was barely two years old. Even though both he and his older brother Jesse had different fathers, my understanding is that the boys saw the Bunny as their father figure – he and Trevor’s mother were together for approximately 12 years – the formative years of these boys’ lives.

I saw Nick and Jesse along with Trevor at the Bunny’s services; everyone was concerned about Trevor and how he was handling the loss of his father, but I think back to Nick and Jesse. Both in their mid-twenties, for all intents and purposes “adults,” at least outwardly. Unfortunately the boys all grew up in an environment that encouraged “not sharing innermost feelings” as those things tended to be upsetting to people around them… so I imagine Nick didn’t talk to anyone about what was going on in his head. And because he was overwhelmed with those feelings, the only way he could escape them was to put a gun to it.

I had a conversation with Trevor shortly after these events; I’ve always been on shaky ground as far as my role in Trevor’s life; when I had been dating the Bunny and it was becoming fairly serious, I caused a huge uproar with Trevor's mom by trying to give Trevor a photo album with pictures of us – Trevor, the Bunny, me and my son Christopher – it was constantly held up to me that I was NOT his mother… this was hard to reconcile because Trevor was the only son of the man I loved – how could caring about him and wanting to show him affection be wrong? Anyway, following the death of his father and then his brother, I told Trevor that it was a mistake for Nick to not open up to anyone, to not share what he was thinking and feeling, because in doing so it was too easy for him to convince himself that “nobody cared, nobody understood, nobody would miss me if I were gone…” – if the only voice you listen to is the one in your head, it’s easy to be seduced into believing that voice is truth, reality… and it isn’t always so. That voice can enable you, wanting to protect you, inadvertently creating a cocoon which traps your spirit… and unless something external can break through, like the love and support of people that care about you… you are in danger of losing yourself completely.

I have learned (albiet, painfully) that when things seem their darkest, the best thing to do is wait it out. Because the world will continue turning, and things – as bad as they seem to get sometimes – will change. And those things in turn will cause me to change. Drive me. Inspire me. And when I pull myself through to the other side, I always feel stronger. People are always telling me how strong I am – I like to think of it as stubbornness. Or tenacity. Nothing and nobody is ever going to make me feel SO bad and SO worthless that I would rather be dead. I felt that way a long time ago, and I vowed to never feel like that again. And it’s a vow I intend to keep.

Going through some of the Bunny’s papers recently, I came across a letter Nick wrote to him. It brings tears to my eyes, because now Nick and the Bunny do have something in common – a big, obvious thing. But they have something else: immortality in the minds and hearts of those of us left behind. And for me, it serves as a constant reminder that making connections with the people around me IS the most important thing there is… and in doing this, the one that is saved is myself.

* * *

Dear Dad,

I know we haven’t gotten along in the past. I just hope our relationship will brighten up pretty soon. I long for the day that we can do something together without arguing. Or without regret or interference. There are some days that we can go through without arguing. Usually those are the ones where I am gone most of the day. But I really hope that soon we can just laugh our way through a day and just have fun. It’s kinda hard ‘cause we have almost nothing in common. But I want to look beyond that to what we do have in common. Someday I hope we can do that.

Love,

Nick