Photo by Lawrence Thomas

It was a picturesque, blue sky, no clouds, sunny Monday morning. 

The skies had been bright for the better part of a week. It was the kind of day that if I was dying, I imagine I would think about how I’d miss beautiful days like this. The freshness in the air, the sounds of spring songbirds, the happiness that this time of year brings to the faces on our streets, the curious little noses coming out of winters hibernation; creatures and humans alike. The kind of days when the once sleeping winter world, seemed so alive and free again. 

I had noticed the night prior, that a friend had sent me a Facebook request, suggesting that I join a group dedicated to helping find someone who had gone missing. These kinds of group invitations happen all too frequently. Not to take away from their importance, but up until that moment, those missing persons requests had not been anyone I had known personally. 

It wasn’t until the next morning, that I had a chance to login to read the message. All I had seen on my mobile device the night prior, was ‘MISSING PERSON: PLEASE HELP…’. This time, I knew who the missing person was. 

She was more of a friend of a friend sort of acquaintance. I had known her in this manner since high school. I always thought that she was as an attractive, fun, and charming girl. A bit of a rebel, but loved by all who knew her.  

I had talked to her briefly in recent months, as we re-connected through Facebook. It was more of a Hi, good to see you on here, how has it been, kind of catch up. Typical of many Facebook re-acquaintances’ between those we never really knew all that well. You browse through some photographs, and laugh in remembrance at the old photos from back in the days when they weaved more frequently in and out of your life. 

Fast forward to just a few weeks ago, when this friend added me to  Facebook again. I hadn’t noticed she had left and I didn’t get a chance to say hello again, before I realized I would never get another opportunity. 

Drawing by Lawrence Thomas

I started chatting with the creator of the Facebook group that morning; a close friend of the missing woman. I shared a few back and forth messages with her, explained how I knew her friend, and that I was thinking of her family and friends during this difficult time. She was understandably upset, yet optimistic of finding her friend and for her safe return home. 

I received a call later that morning however, informing me that the search was over. This acquaintance had ended her life. Her child, her family, and her friends, were all left with an empty space and a grief I can only begin to imagine. She had not known the happiness and hope that this spring-like Monday morning would offer us. 

A co-worker had also known this friend. He is the same age and a former classmate of hers. I couldn’t stop thinking of that phone call all day, and when I caught up with my work friend much later that evening, he talked about how deeply he had been bothered by this horrible truth as well. 

It makes you think of your own life. How far down we have been or currently are. How close we may have come, to something in our own lives pushing us over that sanity edge. 

You look at groups such as this, browse the old photos posted by friends and family, read the heartfelt messages on the wall, the poetry, the song dedications, and you think to yourself How does someone surrounded by so much love, end up in a mental place that makes them feel like there is no way out, but up? That life is not worth living. That the only ending, is an out of body beginning? 

The sun is shining brightly. It’s warm. My jacket is unbuttoned. No gloves. No toque. No more long, dark, cold, winter days. A new season. A new beginning. New inspiration. 

For one beautiful yet troubled soul however, even all of natures hope was not enough to continue in this life. 

Human’s desire to hide much of their lives, to keep so much of themselves, their thoughts, their fears, dreams, hopes, heartaches, financial and relationship woes to themselves – I just don’t understand it. Not that I am always the most open person, but why do we allow ourselves to feel like we are alone in these thoughts? 

Photo by Lawrence Thomas

What is wrong with admitting that my wife and I had a really bad fight last night. I wanted to say it was over. I was so mad, but then I went for a long walk with the dog. When I returned home, the anger was gone, I said I was sorry (even though I wasn’t totally convinced that I had done anything wrong), we hugged, and all was good in the world for another day.  

Or, I broke up with my girlfriend last night. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I am lost and lonely. I hate this feeling, although a large part of me knows it was the right thing to do. Why does this hurt so much? 

How would those words be received by your friends or your readers? How would it feel to someone who was lost in a loneliness similar to yours, to know that there was at least one other person in the world, feeling as poignant as they were at that moment? 

If you are a fan of the weekly night time drama House, last week’s patient of focus, played by Laura (Jackie) Prepon of That 70’s Show fame, was a blogger. Much to her husbands disapproval, there were few aspects of her life (their lives), that weren’t open for all the world to read. She felt no reason to hide her life. To her, there was much more to be gained and learned from others and in turn, so much she could offer her readers from her own life’s experiences. 

As it turned out, it was actually those blog posts that helped House’s team of doctors, determine what was wrong with her. Yet, it was the one thing she hid about her health that meant the difference of a cancer diagnosis with a few days to live, to some medication and a valve transplant, and the rest of her life ahead of her. 

You can understand why bowel movements wouldn’t be a topic many of us would jump to share, but it was obviously one thing above everything else, that she should have at least communicated with her husband or doctor. 

In recent years, I too have found that life is much more rewarding and more fulfilling, when you aren’t afraid to share who you truly are deep inside with the world. Good or bad. Communication has never been my strong suit. I won’t beat around the bush, but as I learn to open up and surround myself with souls willing to share all of themselves with me, I have learned so much about myself. Most importantly, that I am not alone. 

Recently, our family hit a low point when we started seeing payments for various things bounce. My wife had quit her job six months ago to stay home with our two children, and to run a home daycare. I supported her decision 100%, but as is the case with most new businesses, it took awhile to build a steady client base. Ensuring first and foremost, that our new daily guests fit in perfectly with our family; including our crazy dog who likes to join in on daily play. 

We were struggling to make ends meet in recent months, with fewer options left to balance the mortgage, car payments, credit card debt, and utility and grocery bills. We were both stressed and stretched to the limit.

Then one day I walked by a Money Mart, and just when it seemed that all options were used up, there was at least one more.  

I was embarrassed to go in there that first time and up until recently, at my wife’s request, nobody knew that we had to result to payday loans to keep the bottom from falling out. The way my wife and I ultimately looked at it though, was that it was a few dollars cheaper than NSF charges, and certainly easier on the old credit score. 

We had to count on this quick cash option a few times over a two or three month span before my wife’s daycare was fully on its feet. I can’t help but wonder now, what might have happened if things hadn’t turned around when they did? Money in advance was surely going to catch up to us. We were safe for another day. 

I know we are not alone in the day-to-day troubles we face as a young family, but how many people that  seem to, from the smiles they paint on each day, have everything going for them on the outside, are actually in a similar or possibly even worse situation than you or I?  

What does hiding the truth about our relationship and financial issues truly gain us? What is so embarrassing about hitting rock bottom? Why do we need to feel like we have failed the ones we love, that there is no way out, that we are alone in the loneliness of our secret lives. Is failure actually losing your house, a broken marriage, or getting fired from your job, or is failure going through these difficult times alone?  

Standing outside the viewing room door, lined up down the hall. Family, friends, and acquaintances, waiting to pay their respects. On her coffin, flowers and a few photos. Pictures ranging from youth, to more recent photos, including one of her young child. All of them memories of a life no more.

Crying, stories, laughter of past times together. Old friends. The old gang. Not the reunion any of them had envisioned.  

She was the third person I had personally known, to take their own life. One, a family member, the second one, was also a friend of a friend. Both of them had ended their lives in their own homes for their children to discover their lifeless bodies. If there was ever any consolation to suicide, it could be that at least this last friend, went away to end their life. That still doesn’t take away from the fact however, that all of them left children behind. In all their innocence, left with the haunting, lifetime memories, that their mother or father had killed themselves.  

That parent would not be there to watch them graduate, see them off to college, walk them down the aisle or cry in the front row when they get married. They will never hold their grandchildren, or be there to enjoy sleepovers with kids you get to give back, or so many of the other firsts that watching a child through a grandparents eyes offers. These children will never know what it feels like, to share in the moments a child longs to one day enjoy with their parents – especially watching them interact with their own children.  

BANG! SNAP! SLICE! Three lives gone. 

You are not alone, is the message we need to share with one another; desperately. Money, material things, broken romance; there is nothing  you cannot get over with the help of a friend, family member, and the admission as a society, that it’s not only okay to share your dreams and fears with the world around you, but it’s the key to a healthier, happier, life more fulfilled.   

~

I dated a woman once who I had only known for a short while, who shared some of her deepest, darkest moments of her then recent past with me. This particular piece isn’t directly related to this post, but I though it relevant to share her story at this time.   

Jessica made me realise what could be gained from being honest about the fears and pain we hold inside. I learned so much from her in the short time I knew her, but she would inspire me forever, for the truths she so openly shared with me during that brief friendship.   

Now she is happily married. Her son, who was just two when I met her, has grown into a handsome and pleasant young man. She had seen the darkest of days from a broken marriage, post partum depression, raising her little boy all by herself, losing both her mother and father, and yet by sharing her fears with the world, she learned from her wounds, grew from them, and eventually found happiness and a soul to share her life with. Because of her, I know that there is hope beyond all the pain and suffering this world can sometimes throw at us.   

For one friend however, there is no happy ending.   

Nothing can bring her back, and there should be no feelings of guilt. If there is blame to be felt, it should be by society as a whole; the realization that, with all that we know about life and the world and with all of the technology we have at our disposal to share that knowledge, there are still broken souls out there. Lost. Alone.   

I am afraid. You are not alone.   

It is the message we need to send.

Here is a link to an early draft of the short Love and Honesty.