That Which Won’t Be Mentioned

This is a heavy, sad week.

​Three people I know passed away this week, and my heart is a bit beat up.

​One person was a golfing acquaintance. He had a giant smile and gave a hearty greeting. Although I only saw him at golf tournaments, I was always happy to see him. He was a kind, kind man.

​Golfers don’t always know that much about the personal lives of other golfers, but we know that they’re out there trying to improve themselves, just like we are. There’s an unspoken bond, much like there must be in other sports. When we arrive at a tournament, there are certain people we hope and expect to see, and it will hit me again when he’s not there. But, lucky for him, he passed away quietly in his sleep.

​The next person was my former neighbor. As I was growing up, I was often a bit nervous around him. He was quiet and seemed so intimidating to me. I felt the same way when I hired him as an attorney.

​But several years ago, I was finally able to recognize that he wasn’t being quiet to scare anyone; he was just observing. He had a great sense of humor and enjoyed laughing. He had a snickering chuckle, but when he thought something was really funny, he’d throw back his head and laugh loudly.

​I grew up with his kids, playing in their yard until dark. Later, I would work with his wife in a cramped hospital office, helping her with public relations duties.

​My former neighbor had a tumor and passed away about three months after discovering it.

​The final person was a young man whom I had the pleasure of teaching. I remember him as being a little goofy. I liked him. He almost always had a smile on his face when walking into my classroom. As is the case with all of my students, he became one of my “kids,” and I enjoyed watching him grow up after high school through social media posts. When he got together with another of my former students, I cheered them on with multiple thumbs up and heart symbols.

​The couple has three young children who may not remember their daddy as they get older. He died by suicide.

Let’s get real

​I don’t know what was going on with him before he died. I don’t know if he was high or drunk or sad. But I do know what being depressed feels like, and I also know the fear of being judged because you’re struggling.

​Why is this still a thing? Seems like we can talk about anything except money and the way we’re truly feeling if it’s anything but happy. So I’m talking about it.

​When my children were young, I became depressed for a number of reasons. All I wanted to do was sleep, and I recognize that now as a pretty positive sign of depression. But I had two beautiful little kids who thought the sun rose and set on me, so ending my life didn’t enter my mind.

​I also had a doctor who I felt I could talk to and I hoped, would send me in the right direction to get help. She wrote me a prescription for antidepressants. By the way, this is also something we still don’t talk about, which is crazy. If a pill can legally pick you up so that you have the energy to get through the day, what’s the big deal?

​I took the pills for about a year, and they made all the difference. I was able to be a decent parent and get on with my life. I don’t know what would’ve happened if I hadn’t gotten that prescription.

​Later on in my life, after my husband had an aortic aneurysm and had to stay in the hospital for almost a month longer than expected, I became depressed. There were days during that time when I didn’t think he would ever actually walk through our door again. I couldn’t shake that feeling, even when I knew he was going to be okay. I ended up back on antidepressants, but this time it was just for a few months. Again, it made all the difference.

​This is not the first of my former students to die by suicide. Each time I hear of this happening, I wish I had stayed in closer contact with them. The social media view is generally pretty rosy and not at all the real story.

​I have to wonder if he felt he didn’t have any options. He was a nice guy, and I can’t believe that he would choose to leave his children, unless he couldn’t see any other way out.

Please text!

​I wish he had felt like he could’ve texted me. I hope and pray all my former students know that I’m only a text message away.

​I’m praying that God wraps his arms around those people closest to the three who passed away. I know a man from the Northern Cheyenne Indian tribe who refers to death as “traveling on.” I like that. I hope that these guys are traveling on down a peaceful, pain-free road and keeping close watch over their families.

​I also hope that the world realizes that it’s time to have real conversations about mental health and bring depression and remedies for it out of the closet.