I woke this morning at 4 am with a start and wondering if he was still alive at 4 am the morning we found him dead. Another thing I'll never know. At least I still have my memories of him while he was alive. Perhaps I've posted this poem before. Even so, it is appropriate for today. Remembering Paul I'll always remember he slept without closing his eyes all the way I'll always remember he walked fast and way ahead of us I'll always remember he had long, thick, black eyelashes surrounding clear blue eyes I'll always remember he played the piano legs crossed at the knees, leaning way down over the keyboard I'll always remember he liked to wear second-hand clothes and didn't mind if they were ripped I'll always remember he stood at the pantry door munching almonds I'll always remember he liked to climb trees, rocks, diving boards I'll always remember he was meticulous and anal about his things I'll always remember he could play almost any tune by ear And that … [Read more...]
Who pulled the trigger?
My massage therapist told me the story of a 15-year old boy's death by suicide. He was defending another boy in his school whom his classmates, including his girlfriend, were harassing about being gay. He got into a physical fight over it even though he had a physical injury himself. Afterward his classmates accused him of being gay because he had tried to protect the gay boy, and his girlfriend got on the bandwagon. She sent him a text calling him gay and told him he ought to kill himself. And, he took her up on it. He knew where his dad locked away his gun and he got a hatchet to break the lock. Then he pointed the gun to somewhere on his head, neck, or throat, took a picture of that, sent it off to his girlfriend, and then pulled the trigger. I wrote this short poem about the event. My final question is the point. Who actually pulled the trigger? Who or what actually pulls the trigger on any suicidal action? This Speaks for Itself I don't even know his name and I mourn for … [Read more...]
A book whose time has come
I'm beginning to think the time has come for the subject of my book. Whether it will help motivate an agent and a publisher is another story, but just in the last week two pieces have come out discussing mental illness and dealing with it. One was an article by Glenn Close in The Huffington Post about eliminating the stigma of silence about mental health. Another article was on NPR this morning about helping college students with mental illness and the need for more counselors so their needs can be responded to quickly. Akin to a broken leg that gets immediate attention, a mental break or deep depression also needs immediate attention. This has become more prevalent in the last 10 years because more students with mental illness are attending college enabled by the availability of the anti mania, anti depression, and anti psychotic new medications. So, looking back at the response Paul had when he had his first psychotic break when he was in college. Someone from the school's … [Read more...]
"Boy Interrupted"
Dana Perry produced a documentary called Boy Interrupted that appeared on HBO. I didn't see it from the start last night, but I saw enough over an hour to get the gist. Her son, Evan, was depressed from the time he was a small child and actually talked about death and suicide from the age of five. He became so disruptive at school he threatened to jump from the roof - that first he was hospitalized and then put into a special school for children with problems. There they finally diagnosed him as bipolar and put him on lithium, and he responded well to it. Eventually he returned to a mainstream school, made friends, and received top grades. He was well liked, very handsome, and had a lot of girlsfriends. However, by the time he was 15 he and his mother discussed his going off his medication, and with the advice of his doctor to go off gradually, he did. And as he did he became increasingly depressed again. His last night alive he was agitated, didn't want to do his homework and he … [Read more...]
Lucky me!
I was lucky to have a few minutes to talk to Paul on his last night alive. Bob was angry that he did not. And, in that conversation there was no way to know that it would be my last time with him. Yet, in hindsight there were lots of clues. I went over and over the words we spoke in those few minutes and came upon a million what ifs. But, there was no going back. The next morning I knew I would never have the chance to speak to him again. The Last Night How could I have known it would be the last night? A night like all the others: the low creaking groan of the garage door, tires screeching to maneuver into the narrow place, the roar of the engine before silence. Then slamming the door, my son, sweeps down the long hall, calling out hello in his deep friendly voice. I startle as I hear his heavy strides pass my door, I call out to him. Returning, he enters my room standing, staring, looking more calm than I've ever seen him. His blue eyes like sapphires fringed … [Read more...]
