For the love of all that's good and right in the world

For the love of all that’s good and right in the world.

I left my house this morning and drove to visit my family, and to see my son on his 15 ^th Birthday. I loaded my Jeep and a trailer with Steph’s belongings and headed south. Leaving at around 1:00, and making the drive in just under 6 hours.

The thing is this may have been, not time wise but perception wise, the single longest trip I have ever taken. My heart aches because of what I saw today, and more so of what I learned later about the event.

The accident

I think this blog is going to be long, after all I am normally long winded, and this is a subject that hit’s me close to home. In fact, maybe just a little too close.

I was heading South on I5 when A police car came up in the left hand shoulder, and for lack of a better way to explain it, he was hauling ass. Traffic was already very slow, and my first thought when I heard it coming was that there must be an accident ahead. When I perceived his speed I could tell that it wasn’t a normal car accident.

I looked up ahead, and could see at approximately ¼ mile, the overpass. Not too sure the exact one, but I could see it the scene clear enough. The whole overpass was closed off with police cars, and there was a man in dark clothing standing on the overpass on the wrong side of the protective fence. He moved a few feet, and appeared to have jumped at that moment. Or fell, that is possible.

I spend most of my trip south running these pictures through my head, over and over. My perception going into overdrive, as only heightened emotion and anxiety can do to a person. Adrenalin not really believing what I just saw. That later becoming shock when I saw the body, and ending in remorse and deep sorrow.

I just learned as I looked for a link to post with this blog, that it was a boy. I perceived it to be a full grown man, but it was a boy of 14 years old. My son, he turned 15 today. This could have been my kid. This could have been someone I knew, and cared about.

First off, there should be a law that governs how big a blanket the State Patrol keep in there trunk. This unfortunately is not the first time I have seen something like this. All three times the body has been covered with a blanket when I got there. But all three times, an arm or leg, or both were sticking out the side of the blanket. If there blankets were 2 feet longer, and 2 feet wider this wouldn’t happen. Or maybe a second blanket? For God’s sake, cover the body, the whole body.

It is an act of the gods, fate, or whatever. A body laid out on the ground, and an arm and the feet are sticking out of the blanket. The shoes and socks knocked clear off the body, and not in the scene. One foot pointing in a clear, unnatural direction, white as can only be described as deathly. Three cars totaled and in the ditch, on person getting help from a paramedic. All this by the time I got there.

Possibly more disturbing then watching the boy jump, and placement of severed body parts, and guts spread around the freeway, blood covering the vehicles that hit the boy….

More disturbing is the car that was next to me. Sitting in the back driver side was a little girl in a booster seat. Maybe 6, may older, maybe not. As we moved through the area my car was parallel or right behind this car the whole time. The events in that car can only be surmised, but judging from the look on their faces, and the body language, I assume the conversation went like this. The women, the driver, never as far as I could tell looked out her window at the accident scene. She wasn’t interested.

Little Girl, “Mom, look at that” going ignored at this point. “mommy, mommy, is that guy OK” still ignored. This, as I could see the girl look from the street, back at her mom. Following this in a slightly heightened tone of voice “ Mooomy, is THAT guy dead”.

It was at this point I saw dear old mom look into her mirror, holding the cell phone to her ear, as she spoke to her daughter. Facial expression and body language makes me think she said, “Honey, I told you to hush, mommies on the phone”, she looked at the road, and then lifted her head to look back at her daughter in the mirror, “I told you to be quiet”. At this point my car was in front of them, and I didn’t look back.

Over the next few hours, I thought to myself, someone’s wife is getting a call right now. Grandmother was just told. Someone’s kids are finding out that there dad is dead. Remember, at this point I did not know it was a 14 year old boy. Tomorrow, the grief counselors will walk the halls of his life in his school.

This is where the story ends, and my thoughts take over.

I get sick and f’n tired of people saying how suicide is a selfish act. It is to me the same as someone who has never tasted of addiction saying, saying the alcoholic is a bum. Yet, these same people will ask for sympathy when told they have a heart condition. I agree, from the perspective of a healthy mind, it is kind of selfish. From the perspective of a healthy body why would you take medication, yet when you have a high fever, or a broken bone those pills are invaluable.

This whacked out standard that when you kill yourself that you are in some way hurting other people, is only one side of the story. The side of the healthy person whom has never been in a situation even remotely similar. Maybe you have been sad, but open your eyes and look at the big picture. I hate that this kid killed himself in a manner that will affect another person for a long time. The person who was driving the pickup that hit him... I doubt he had full insurance on that car, it was a beater. I doubt that he had medical insurance, because if he had a job that paid for it, why was he driving the car he was driving. This person is mentally, physically, and financially hurt because of the actions of a stranger.

The same frustration for me comes from hearing of suicide by cop. And countless other things that people do to kill themselves. But I can tell you, if I was the driver of that car, I would not be thinking of myself. I would cry for the death of the person that jumped. I would cry for his mother and father, his sisters, and friends. I can relate as a survivor, and as a victim.

When you are holding a knife to your wrist, or neck. It is not a simple matter of quick slice. When you pull the trigger and the damn thing misfires. I can tell you, it is not easy. You feel that you are doing the world a favor. You are not thinking that it will hurt them; you are thinking that you are helping them. Helping everyone in the world. To you, the severely and clinically depressed, you are doing the world a favor. And often, a simple word from a friend saying don’t do it, that is all it takes to remind that person that they are wrong. Sometimes, massive doses of medication are needed. Sometimes, just time itself is all that is needed.

I was 12 years old when my first friend committed suicide. He jumped out onto the freeway one day, and that was it. Some of them were good friends, some of them I hardly knew. Hearing a brother’s death, or mothers, or fathers, or of anyone doing it. It is very sad, and heart wrenching. Walking into someone’s apartment, and finding a body… Not fun.

Walking into someone’s home and hearing the answer machine come on, the day after they have died. Hearing the person on the other end, say “#$#$#, I am worried about you. Please call me back, your scaring me” and then there cell phone sitting on the table ringing with the same number that the caller ID on the home phone had.

In this experience I picked up the cell phone, and answered it. “hello, you do not know me, my name is Benjamin. I am #@#@#@ landlord, and am standing in her apartment”.

I remember listening to the women go silent, and then start to sob. “She is dead isn’t she” “Oh my Gog, she is dead, I knew it”

“I am sorry mam, yes. She died last night.” “I am not sure, I believe her heart gave out.” “Let me take your name, and your number, and give it to the person that is handling this”.

That women, turned out to be a friend of longer then I had been alive. And the dead lady, a suicide.

I have lost count of the suicides I have lived through. I have know more people to die at their own hands then to die in any other method.

I myself, I have wanted to die longer then I can remember. I feel pity for the dead, and feel shame at their failure to fight it off. Shame, because if God had permitted, I would have succeeded in at least one of my attempts. Shame, because I want what they have. And, I am man enough to admit it. That depression has cost me everything I have ever had, and so far, everything I have ever wanted. Death, I can only assume will be better. God, must exist. And in my mind, he must have a reason for all of this. I can only do my part, and live. After all, I have had the opportunity to die many times, and it has not been permitted.

I know how the psalms reads, and I know what follows in the text. But I also can relate to how this passage feels, and I know that they young man that jumped today must have felt the same.

1. My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? Why art thou so far from helping me, and from the words of my roaring?
2. O my God, I cry in the daytime, but thou hearest not; and in the night season, and am not silent.

I want to include a comment that another person made on the news story.

jthebaut said on January 21, 2011 at 10:26 PM

“ As I was reading through the comments it struck me as to how uneducated others can be when it comes to mental illness or the desperation of others. It may be because its scary to think that someone is so sad and lonely that they see their only choice is ending it all. And then to realize that it is a 14 year old boy. What pain he must have been feeling to have believed that his life isn't worth anything or that nobody loves or cares for him. What happened to lead to this? Was it abuse or a deep dark depression that was either undiagnosed or was not able to be managed with medication. I work with these children, I assess them while in the ER and try to hospitalize them if "they meet acuity". These children often cry out for help but are rarely taken seriously. Some of them are likely to be the child next door that really needs someone to talk to. I realize that we all lead busy lives, but for one second try to remember that time you were so depressed then triple that feeling.”

My heart aches because of this event, and the thousands that go on that I do not see. I am glad that I live, but to quote a much better writer then me… “I love life, but Life has a boyfriend” Feel his pain, the pain that led to his death. You cannot relate, only partly at best. Feel for the others affected buy it. The driver of the car, and the little girl that will have bad dreams tonight.

Pray for those who want to do the same, there are more then you know. Listen when someone calls for help, they may be at the point of no return.

It isn't always as it seams

If after 4:00 in the morning and I and still can't sleep. Big surprise I guess.

I have been watching the snow accumulates the last couple hours out my front window. There are many times I have woken to snow being on the ground. It is interesting to me that when you wake up in the morning and first thing you see is the snow on the ground, and it seems so pretty.

A fresh blanket of snow makes everything look so clean and so pure. But it is always a matter of perspective, at least to me. The sun is brighter, the moon is brighter. At even the streetlight are brighter. All prospective, not like they're actually brighter. When I wake up and see it, it makes me think everything is warm and cozy. For some reason I always think that animals are bedded down and staying warm. Standing next to the heater or fireplace always seems to be warmer than if it wasn’t snowing outside.

I suppose that is why a white Christmas is so desirable. It just seems to make everything more so; more happy, more clean, and more peaceful. But like I said, it is all a matter of perspective. That all changes we have to go out into it to get to work or something. How many people like the white Christmas when they're worried about the family driving home in the snow over a mountain pass? It quickly loses its appeal.

When you're looking at the snowfall everything seems to be chaotic. If you try to drive in it is dangerous. You try and walk in it that you can slip and hurt yourself. Every drop of the snow, or snowflake I guess, seems to fall in on chaotic pattern trying to find it's place in the painting that they are creating. The painting that in the end is so beautiful.

My neighbor John has been trying to kill the raccoons in the neighborhood. He seems to go out of his way to kill God’s creations. First time I met him he was busy shooting the neighbor’s dog because it killed a couple of his chickens. Moved out of the country, got himself some pigs and goats and chickens. You know good old-fashioned country boy. But he thought the dog was a coyote, and you know it isn't like the coyote was here first. Anyhow…..

I have always fed the raccoons that live in my neighborhood, for all the neighborhoods I have lived for that matter. I know most people consider them pests, but I've always found them pretty. One of my favorite wild animals I suppose. I have fed them, pet them, and even evicted them from their homes at a time or two. But I have never considered killing them. I understand the need to kill rats and mice. They get into people's houses and pass along diseases, it's a sanitation issue. But raccoons are not a problem as long as you don't leave the garbage out and keep your crawlspace blocked off. They go somewhere else.

Anyhow I was writing this because my motion sensing light came on the back my house, so I decided to see what was. Apparently the raccoons are living under my neighbor's shed. Actually I think it's a pump house for his well water. Anyhow, he has been trying to kill the raccoons because they're getting into his pet food, and bothering his chickens. Wonder what he would think if I told him that they are living in his pump house.

All this commotion with the raccoons dragging pet food from one location to the other just reminds me that the snow isn't peace and quiet. It’s not a blanket of serenity. Life continues even in the snow, often with more of the struggle.

A few years ago when Stephanie and I were first separated, I was on a road trip Mount Baker. As I was driving home from this beautiful trip, I caught the sight of a tree in a field. The field is completely snowed in and the tree is covered in snow and the background is a forest of pine trees. I park my car and walked back to get a picture of this tree. A single tree sitting in a field of snow with nothing around it. It struck me with this sensation of loneliness and isolation. Not just an ongoing fight for survival that the tree was winning against all apparent odds, but doing so alone.

The singular tree, flower, or bush has always been something I like to photograph. It reminds me of a story I once heard, which is the reason I'm writing this rambling of this blog. The thoughts that ran through my head as I watched a raccoon walk across a field covered in snow.

I believe all life, regardless of intelligence or not, will fight for its own survival. The visual comes to my mind of a dandelion growing in the cracked concrete. The tree that is struggling to grow on the edge of a cliff. The patch of grass in the desert. When God created life he instilled in it an instinct to survive.

In a more depressing view, I often have wished that something would happen. Something horrible that would take my life away from. Be careful what you wish for I guess, because sometimes you'll get it.

A few years ago I was hit by motorhome on I5 while riding my motorcycle. No more than 24 hours prior to it Stephanie told me I had a death wish. Not saying she wasn't correct, but I know now from experience that that death wish was only on the surface. As I was thrown for my motorcycle I did everything I could to survive that accident, all of which is another story. The thing is I could've let the accident take me; nobody would take that as a suicide… Well, I suppose the people that actually know me would wonder if I intentionally had gotten in the way of the motorhome or not. Reputation and all, you know.

I learned something very important about myself that day; I learned that I don't want to die. After all if I did I would've.

The thing is, as I am staring out into this blanket of snow and watching the raccoon, I find myself sympathizing with the raccoon. fighting to survive, quite possibly fighting against yourself. After all in the morning if John sees the tracks, no more raccoon. Who am I fighting with?

The perspective is, that the blanket of snow is peace and comfort. Maybe metaphorically that quilt that you pull up over you in your bed. But if you peel back that warm and comfortable blanket, what are you going to see underneath. When I wake up and see the snow I see it as a blanket of peace. When I'm watching the snow fall and accumulate, I tend to see it as a threat to life.

I suppose snow falling makes me feel exposed and threatened. But in the morning when you put on your boots and your coat (not that I would put my coat on) it seems comfortable and comforting, not life threatening. I think I like the view of snow when I wake up in the morning better. Same snow, same field, just different.