A Note Left For One Whose Eyes Shall Open No More

Last night, I woke up around 4:30 a.m. after what I can only call a stress dream - I was hot and short of breath when I awoke and just sobbing uncontrollably. I couldn't stop crying. Gut-wrenching sobs escaping my body seemed almost involuntary. No. Not seemed. They WERE involuntary.


One of my FaceBook acquaintances had posted that his 10-year old cockatiel had died, and its mate, named Ella, was looking very sad. My grandfather's new bride's first name is Ella, and it made me think of them. I suppose it was on my mind as I went to sleep that I know nobody lives forever, and how I dread the inevitable news of when those in my life who I cherish so dearly are no longer walking on the earth. Of course, it's natural that we think of the elders in our lives at such times.


I finally got myself settled down enough to sleep for another hour or so, and shortly after I got up, the phone rang with some shocking news. A dear friend - someone my roommate has worked with at the mall for years - killed himself last night. He was 27 years old.


My grandfather, 60 years older than 27, is preparing to go down to Florida for a couple of months with his new bride. They are happy and full of life as always, and I'm once again reminded how foolish it is to assume that our elders are more likely to die than anyone else. Sure, logic dictates that the older someone is, the less time they have left, but I think of my father dying at 38, my cousin killed in a shooting accident at 15, other dear friends I've lost over the years my age or younger, and I realize that not one of us is guaranteed even one more day of life just because we are younger.


I had planned to go to the ribbon-cutting ceremony of a local GLBT counseling center this morning, but e-mailed my best wishes instead, as right now I'm feeling very dizzy and not well at all in any sense of the word. The loss of a friend and the knowledge that he was so miserable in his last moments is more than I can handle right now. Or, rather, it's all I can handle. Other things will have to wait.


I don't have any special philosophical insights to share or anything to make myself feel better. There is no comfort in this situation for anyone involved. I'm grieving not only for my suicidal friend, but for his wife, also a friend. They were such a cute couple.


My roommate had worked with Steve for years. He was captain of security at one of the local malls, and my roommate had just left him a note about some of their equipment that was not functioning properly. I guess it's still on his desk.


A piece of paper waiting to be read by someone whose eyes will open no more.


We love you, Steve. We will never forget you. Rest in peace.


A.