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Saturday, January 31, 2015

Diary of His Last Day

7:30am:  I couldn't sleep again last night.  The nightmares coupled with the physical pain has been unbearable for the last few months, but I only need a few more hours and then, it will be handled.  The coffee is brewing, it shouldn't be long before I can get my morning dose of miraculous.  The smell of freshly brewed coffee is unlike anything else and it has brought me many mornings of enjoyment.  Today, I'm just not feeling it.

8:45am:  I sat out on the balcony and had my coffee and it was delicious, the sunshine was a welcomed change, that's for certain.  The weather can be so frustrating - one minute it's cold, the next it's like living under an earth-sized hair dryer.  Anyway, time to get ready.

9:25am:   The pain has really started to intensify.  The pain medications have stopped working weeks ago and with each passing day, the pain is increasingly intense.  I'm glad that the kids haven't seen me in this condition.  They saw me in the hospital once, and that was enough.  They were scared, frightened, and unsure of just what was going on.  I have caused enough pain in their lives and I have no desire to add to the pain.  They are wonderful kids - all of them.  I can't go on being a source of anguish for them.  Just can't do it any longer.

11:00am:  I made my calls to those whom I love.  Some were excited to hear from me, the rest were rather disinterested in a simple conversation.  It hurt, but it's what I've grown used to.  When you're sick, you see, no one really wants to be around you - as though your pain will be transferred to them like in a sci-fi flick.  These were people whom I thought really gave a shit about me and my feelings.  I don't get it and maybe it just wasn't in the cards for me to understand.  They enjoyed me as long as I was entertaining, interesting.  But when I became ill and the prognosis was scary, I became a persona non grata.  And that's okay too.

12:13pm:  The time is drawing near and the closer it gets, the more at peace I feel.  My Catholic friends will consider this a mortal sin.  For my Protestant friends, they'll just pray that I made it to the happy side of the abyss.  The rest of my friends probably will miss me the most.  They knew me intimately, and they cared of their own free will - not because of some obligatory religious edict.  Man, I've dealt with my share of so-called Christians and they only understand the most rudimentary aspects of what current culture has decided is fundamental.  Oh, well.  I sure as hell won't be changing anyone's opinions - I've tried that and it just didn't work.  I vomited blood again and it's getting worse and more disgusting.  Blood is supposed to be on the inside of the body, not the outside.

1:46pm:  Why didn't they understand what I have been going through?  I reached out to them, asked if they were too busy to visit once in a while, and apparently they were.  I had a couple friends who stuck with me through this, but one abandoned me when it got rough - apparently there is no such thing as "unconditional love" any longer.  There's always an agenda. It's one of those "I love you IF" circumstances.  "I love you IF you behave in a manner of my choosing."  It's immeasurably fucked up and yeah, I suppose I have pulled that shit too.  But it doesn't make it right.  

3:00pm:  It's time.  Everything is ready, I've made my final telephone calls, I've even posted some niceties to be remembered by that will make my so-called friends feel good about themselves.  Some will say I took the coward's way out.  To them, I ask:  When is the last time you were in such pain that you couldn't talk?  Have you ever been so sick that even a simple cough will cause you to shit your pants?  Have you ever stared down the barrel of a firearm and knew that it would take your life?  Exactly.  Of course you haven't.  So, don't you dare judge me because if I do come back, I'll haunt the hell out of you.  I just can't take the pain of being sick and the emotional trauma that comes along with being sick - that sense of loneliness.  I know there will be others after me who experience the same.  My hope is that they are not left alone; whether they deserve it or not.  I've spent my last few days alone except for the occasional text message or social media message.  No one else should have to deal with that.

To My Kids:  I love you.  You all made my heart sing out when you were born.  Your lives are a testament to just how amazing life can be.  You've grown into your own and I'm proud of each of you.  Don't listen to the naysayers - remember that I love you and I carried your love for me to the other side.

I leave you all with four words:  I tried, I failed.  

They found his lifeless body sprawled out in her living room.  What was left of his head was scattered all over the floor, the pistol still in one hand, his diary in his other hand.  His friends and family mourned him, even missed him.  It wasn't long before they regretted not spending time with him, sharing life experiences.  But that's just the way it goes in the contemporary Facebook society.

I've read a great deal about warning signs about suicide and the diary above really underscores the fact that we have little time on this earth and that time should be spent wisely.  The fulfillment of our human existence is when we connect with other humans, sharing love and time with one another.  Don't pretend that the distressed is "someone else's problem."  It's your problem too.  If we all take on the responsibility of caring for one another - truly caring, the problem of suicide fades away.  It's true that we can't completely eliminate suicide, but we can knock a hole in it.