It’s interesting how synchronicity works. My last post dealt with religions and the traditions we accept by rote. But soon after that post, I learned that a step-nephew of mine had taken his life from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. I’m still reeling from that occurrence. I went to the funeral, a ritual to help families of faith make sense of the loss. This ritual soothed me. The large turnout, as well as the service, soothed my brother and sister-in-law. When logic is tossed out the window and a loved one commits suicide, we all turn to our religions to ease the pain.
The unanswered question that will remain in the hearts and minds of all who knew him is, why? He was so loved by his mother, his brother, his step-dad. He was single, never married, and had just celebrated his 41st birthday. Always smiling, there was no indication of anything gone wrong. Of dark thoughts that led to irreversible actions. Finality. Never to hug him again. Never again to tell him he is loved. A loss that words fail to express. He was young, handsome, well-liked by all. Lots of friends. He hid his demons expertly and all who knew him will suffer his loss every day for the rest of their lives. I think about him constantly. Wishing that I had the power to turn back the clock. Have some insignificant thing carry him past the moment he decided to do it and choose life instead. His brother and mother cling to the notion that they will see him again in the afterlife.
I hope so too.
