So, I know I have not “blogged” as much as I did in the past. Life has gotten in the way. But today is a date, I normally stop and remember.
I apologize upfront for being the poor wordsmith that I am… writing about suicide ain’t easy.
As many know, but some may not, I was studying to be a priest in the Archdiocese of Philly when I was young. It takes eight years to get ordained. I made it through two–1970 to 1972. But during those two years, I made friends who, to this day, well… their names and faces are forever etched in memory. This is about one of those friends.
The calendar quickly jumped ahead, as it does in life, to the year 1998. My seminary class was ordained in 1978, so both the ordained and serveral like me who in jest were labeled, “The Quitters” celebrated the 20 years of ordination over lunch in Montgomery County, in the Philly suburbs. During lunch, one of my classmates came to me and said, and I’m paraphrasing, “George, I know you’re in Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), would you mind telling Tom your story?” At the time, I was sober all of 10 months. But in AA, we are taught early on if someone needs to be 12th stepped, where we carry the message to others in need, we don’t question, we just do it.
So, after lunch, I asked Tom if I could tell him a story. We’d known each other since high school, but it was not until we were both in the seminary that our friendship was solidified. Tom was a brilliant guy… “the smartest person in the room” if you know what I mean. A lawyer, as an adult after, he left the seminary, did much pro-bono work for those less fortunate. Unknown to me, Tom also suffered from depression and bouts of alcoholism.
As we walked outside around the restaurant that day, which I remember as being a bright, sunny, late spring day… I told Tom my story. How I was that “functional alcoholic” with a six-figure job, condo down the Shore, big home, great family, etc. and how I asked myself with all these ‘things’ how could I be an alkie?
Tom listened and was sincerely interested in all I said. We hugged as the group departed many of us saying we’d do this again in 5 years at the 25th.
Tom never made it.
On this day, June 29, 1998, a few weeks after that gathering,while I was down the Shore in Ocean City, NJ, I received a phone call from my oldest friend in the world. Tom was dead. In the early morning hours of that day, he had put a gun to his chest and committed suicide.
In my book, The Best Sermons You’ve Never Heard, I talk about Suicide as a showstopper word. And for those of us who still worship in a church, synagogue, or mosque… unless at a funeral, it is rarely, if ever, mentioned. However, it is the living who maintain the memories of those who ended their lives prematurely. It is the living who still suffer.
Mental illness, depression, anxiety, alcoholism, addiction. These are NOT just words. These are diseases and conditions that are as prevalent as heart disease, cancer, and diabetes. Yet, they are treated by the medical community differently. Hell, insurance companies treat them differently.
I’ve often asked myself: WHY?
Maybe because we can’t see mental illness, depression, and anxiety. Perhaps we can see the devastation brought on by alcoholism and addiction, but we question why doesn’t so-and-so just stop drinking or doing heroin.
We fail to realize that these conditions are NOT character flaws or character issues. They are diseases. Period.
I spent 30+ years in the healthcare industry. If I learned anything, it was this–any serious disease left untreated will eventually lead to death.
Tom, in his depression, from what I gathered at his funeral, did not believe he was well-liked or loved. The church that day was overflowing. Men and women who knew him from childhood, through high school, through his seminary years, and law school years at Seton Hall, young, old, healthy, and infirmed… were there.
Why did he feel that emptiness- that lack of love? We will never know.
Here’s what I do know.
Tom had at least one person who loved him as a dear and cherished friend… me.
The 600 people who packed that small church in NE Philly loved Tom, too.
His two children, who spoke & gave their dad a eulogy loved him like no other.
His wife loved him.
The priest who said the Mass, was Tom’s brother-in-law. The best sermon I’ve ever heard about SUICIDE. He spoke of mental illness and depression. He held nothing back. He loved Tom as his own brother.
The fact that Tom could not “feel” or “know” that love was not a character flaw or fault.
I pray, in heaven, that he is still smiling upon all of us, basking in His Creator’s love… the greatest lover of all.
This post was not to bring about sadness in any of you. I am positive that all of us have been touched by suicide… a family member, a friend, a co-worker, an acquaintance… someone.
As I said at the beginning of this post, the living holds those memories; they still remember the pain of that day.
If you know them, give them a call, send them a text, tell them you love them and still remember their loved one who left this world too soon.
And… if any of us see someone “on the edge”… tell them they are LOVED. You never know; it might be your words of love that bring them back from that edge.
Eric Clapton wrote this song after his four-year-old child died, falling from an apartment building in NY City. I’m positive that day in 1991 is forever etched in his mind.
June 29, 1998
June 29, 2024
Tom, we loved you.
A death by suicide is a stigma and a secret which is often talked about in hushed voices. All of us within and outside of the mental health community have to continually work on removing the barriers that prevent us from seeing suicide as any other disease that takes the life of a beautiful and wonderful person
Suicide and all mental illnesses are sadly still viewed as something shameful and caused by deeply flawed families or someone’s very flawed character. Similarly, resources in this country are woefully underfunded and understaffed with competent professionals. George, thank you for remembering Tom in a beautiful and truthful manner.