Wednesday January 23, 08
This February 11th, it will be three years since my brother Jeff took his life. The wound is still deep. But I am finding the courage each day to accept his decision.
It was his decision. Most doctors and scientists believe that depression is the root cause of suicide. So the thinking goes that if we catch this disease in time and treat it, then we can prevent an individual from committing suicide. But truly, can all suicides be prevented? There is nothing so tragic as a young life lost to depression when help was available. But maybe some don’t want to be saved. Maybe they are done.
Done. Death. Forever. Nothingness.
Being an atheist, I believe when we die that's it. We are done. Zilch. There is no soul that survives death. When the brain dies, all those memories and characteristics that made a person so unique dissolve and decay and recycle back into the earth and sky. So should we feel sad for the dead? They don’t know they are dead. They can’t see the mourners at their funerals or hear the painful cries of their loved ones. And this is a good thing too. Who wants to have to be burdened with that? Wasn’t life hard enough? You can’t heal the wounds or direct traffic from the grave. You are done.
Was Heath Ledger done? Even if he didn’t commit suicide, he must have been desperately tired to take all those sleeping pills.
So I have written a poem about suicide from the perspective of someone who has CHOSEN to quit living…
Some of us know
We’ve learned all
We’ve said all
And so we leave
Don’t be sad.
We knew that
We wish you to
We knew it
We knew we