June 9th, 1993
Every year, 6/9 marks an observance for me. On the above date, in the early morning hours, a very important friend of mine killed himself at the age of 25.
I have no intention of getting all maudlin about it here.
But there are some interesting observations that I’d like to make. For one, Dave’s death had the unintended side-effect of changing my focus on my life. It was the sort of event that ages and matures a 23 year old perhaps mired in an adolescence unbecoming of an adult. Of course it changed me, but I think it changed me for the better.
Additionally, the lens through which I observe this date changes as I age. Certainly the pain and regret continues, but the meaning of his death mutates with each year. Anger gives way to irritation, which changes to acceptance until I arrive at the suspension of ‘why’. ‘Why’ just doesn’t matter anymore. What’s done is done. Choices were made. Consequences are in place. Life continues for some. Nothing should be wasted, so whatever can be extracted from this event should be examined and incorporated.
Indirectly, Dave taught me the value of the time I have, and presented me with a concrete example that this time is limited. Dave permitted himself to be a victim of the perceived difficulties in living a life that wasn’t as he wanted it to be. In the wake of his loss, I learned to accept my own role in the condition of my life, and resolved to take control as much as I’ve been able.
No experience is ever devoid of value, but every experience can be wasted.
Don’t waste things.
Filed under: Personal
The death of someone close to you – especially the first of your generation as such is hard. Over the last seven years I’ve lost my mother, father and brother. All hit me hard but last month my best mate died. We were the same age and met at University then shared flats/houses for years after. I was his best man at his wedding. The only times in my life when I’ve really needed someone, he was there for me. Although we weren’t in regular contact over the last few years he did make it to my wedding and came visit last year in our new house. I was pleased to tell him about my impending fatherhood and meet his lovely 2 year old daughter. Two months ago he was diagnosed with cancer. It was a late diagnosis and things did not look promising. He was moving to be close to family and I’d planned to visit him once he got there and settled. I never got the chance. He was taken in to hospital, his liver failed and he died. His funeral was one of the hardest things I’ve done – especially having been a bearer. It was also painful to see the grief of his brother.
I have a lovely wife, 6 month daughter and a nice home (and mortgage!). Losing a close friend so quickly really does make you appreciate what you have and how important it is to make the most of it. I still struggle to see the good side of what I have and not just the injustice of losing a friend and the loss that meant to his family. I really hope this loss can make a difference to my life as well.
Andy
We cought ‘Jurassic Park’ on TV the other day and just couldn’t help thinking about him….
Every loss is different, yet similar. Losing a friend to an illness isn’t something I’ve had to experience (unless you want to count suicide as an illness). I’d think that would be incredibly frustrating to observe since you are helpless to do anything about it.
In my case, there were no real warning. I got a phone call at 6 AM from his cousin, then had to go take my Physics of Lasers final exam, followed by the Latin final. Talk about a very strange day.
I’m not a spiritual guy. I wish I were, but I can’t find much comfort there without being overwhelmed by doubt. Faith is either there or isn’t: it can’t be faked. I’ll never talk to Dave again. That’s something I have to accept. And in time, I have.
All loss is growth. Loss cannot be prevented, so I’ve tried to learn to accept these events as an opportunity to take something positive from it. It isn’t easy, but I think it is better this way. We are an accumulation of our experiences, and this is a weighty experience that will impact what we are in our lives. It seems to me this is reason enough to take control of it and try to manage that impact.
In my case, his death opened my eyes and I grew up in a hurry. I grew aware of the passing of time, and my seeming refusal to be active in my own life. I think of the things he cannot enjoy, and I try to make sure I do. And when things get really bad, I remember that he can’t even experience stress or despair, and even those are better than nothingness. Experience in all forms is life, and life is better.
Now I sound like some late night infomercial.
Good words.
I found website a for a festival my mate had been at last year in Argentina and there were lots of photos of him doing what he loved – music/media. The other night I found a CD he sent me years ago of his musical doodlings. We never always saw eye to eye when it came to taste in music but he introduced me to some good stuff. Anyway, one of the tracks had samples of him talking and laughing with his sister. It was really weird to hear his voice but really good to hear his laugh.
The place we buried him was beautiful and I feel like I need to go back and maybe say goodbye properly. The funeral was to intense with too many people and the need to make sure everything was right. Not really enough time to think about him.
I’m not sure which is harder. Knowing it’s coming and being able to prepare a little or the shock of a phone call. I’ve had both. Don’t like either.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts again
Andy