by Charles Hugh Smith
Of Two Minds
Tragically, a friend of mine recently took his own life. As a memorial to him, I am reprinting an essay from 2007 about a dear female friend who took her own life.
When an old friend takes his/her own life, your own life is irrevocably diminished. What seemed to matter before no longer matters, and what seemed to make sense no longer makes sense.
My friend had recently moved 1,000 miles away, to a town which had long extended a magnetic draw on her. But she knew no one there, and since her work was all done on computer, she toiled alone. Like any other human being in those conditions, she was lonely. Yes, she had a loyal companion in her dog, and two very close friends here in California, and a constellation of lesser friends like me; but it was not enough at a critical moment.
She’d had those moments before, and been saved: just as she’d gathered the pills to swallow, a friend had called, and she’d gotten past that moment of dark obsession.