A Week Ago

A week ago, two of my friends and I found the body of a young woman who died by suicide in the park. We were on an early morning walk when we saw her, and we asked each other, "Is this what it looks like? Could it be?"

It was. 

We called the police. 

One of my friends asked me if I was going to blog about it, and I said, "I don't think so." Out of reverence for the life that was lost, I didn't think that would be appropriate. But now that some time has passed, I find myself wanting to record a few thoughts (I've written the long version in my journal), and I believe I can do so in a respectful way; maintaining a sense of dignity on behalf of the girl. In that regard, I won't go into great detail about what happened, but I will say these few things:

Being able to assist in laying a person to rest is a very sacred thing. It was scary and startling to find her, but I have felt an overwhelming sense of peace about it. I feel as if we were somehow given a stewardship over this girl. My friends and I are delicate from the experience, and we keep discovering new jitters that we didn't have before. There are images that will stay with us forever, but amid all the parts of it that are hard, there has been spiritual protection and comfort. 

The three of us are so grateful that we found her and that she wasn't found by a child. She was in an area that is heavily trafficked by kids. Likewise, we are grateful that she wasn't found by individuals who would shame or disgrace her in some way. 

Any time I have a close encounter with death, it gives me the chance to consider my beliefs. In quiet, simple ways throughout the past week, I have felt that there is a God and that there is life after death. There is nothing loud or profound that testifies of this to me - it is still and small, but it is there.  

In a situation like this, it's hard to not be able to do anything. So each day, I say a prayer for those who are grieving this loss. 

As far as suicide goes, I don't know if I ever say or do the right things. A dear friend of mine has attempted to take her life more than once. Thank heaven she has been saved. Thank heaven. One night, after being released from the hospital, she called me and said she needed help. A few years have passed, and I am still in awe of what she was able to do in that brave moment. 

She called. 

That took something, and I don't know how many of us have that something when we need it - when we are deep on the throes of pain and suffering and just want it to end. 

There's such a great effort and ever-increasing need to prevent suicide, as it is becoming more and more rampant. There are hotlines and messages of "please stay!" I add my voice to that message. Please! Stay. If I ask you to stay... will you?... Can you? 

I know that's not enough, and I feel helpless. 

Last week, a young life was lost. I wish it wasn't so. Her loss reminds me of the important role we each play in relieving suffering. It's cliche, but you really never know what a person is going through.