A Surprisingly Sane Blog

My childhood friend/step-cousin shot and killed himself yesterday.

He had a little girl.  He was only 25.

He dropped his daughter off at my grandparent’s house in Oklahoma yesterday, went back to his dad’s place, and shot himself.  His wife and dad found him dead.

What were the last thoughts that went through his head?  What drove him to do it?

Does your life really flash before your eyes as you die?

My time spent with him on this earth sure flashed through mine when I heard the news.  Spending the fourth of July with him and my sister and our other cousin in the back of a pick-up truck watching the fireworks.  Racing through my grandpa’s pastures on the three-wheelers.  Trying to row across one of the watering holes on a boat.  Holiday dinners.  We always had so much fun together.  My sister and I were always so happy to see him every time we visited my grandparents.

I think of all the times I’ve wanted to die.  Shit, I woke up wishing I were dead this morning.  I’ve imagined how I’d do it, how it would feel.  Would I feel anything at all?  Would I have a moment of regret just before the lights dim, wishing I hadn’t done it?

And the reason I never do it is because I know that someone I love would have to find me that way.  And I can’t imagine putting my family through that.

My mom’s brother committed suicide.  He was only 17.  My mom was the one who found him.

I had to call the police one time because my mom freaked out and started hurting herself.  She kept saying “I hate myself” over and over while scraping herself up.  She wouldn’t stop.  My dad was trying to hold her back, and I leaned forward to hug her to try to make her stop.  She bit me so hard on the arm that I had a horrid tooth-marked bruise for a month.  I panicked and called the police.  I don’t think she’s ever forgiven me for calling.  No one else in my family knew how to deal with her when she came back from the hospital that night.  It was all up to me.  Dealing with the shit is always on my shoulders somehow.  I’ve never forgiven her for putting me through that trauma.

If my death weren’t without consequence, it would have happened a long time ago.  But I can’t put my family through that.  I’m just not that selfish to think my life is worth breaking their hearts.

Hearing that my cousin went through with it saddens me more than I can put into words.  I have nothing to say, but time seems to be standing still while I digest the truth.

Peace, old friend.  I miss our times together.