He stood before the bathroom mirror. His father's straight razor in hand wondering how he got to this place. The only way out was a quick cut and oblivion. He started to move his hand and stopped short: how could the children ever survive the tableau in the bathroom when they came in the morning to pee? What terrible visions would haunt them and what guilt would they falsely bear for his act of cowardice? Slowly the razor dropped.
This story is based on a poem that a friend wrote about his brush with suicide. I thought at the time he shared it that while it was well written and darkly attractive, it held no real meaning for me.
Some years later I was perched on the edge of a very dark place. In hindsight I know it was a depressed and lonely place, a place with all options closed and no way out. Very early one morning I loaded my 44 magnum with a single cartridge and moved quietly to the family room. I sat a while trying to think of any unexplored options, and found none. The path was clear and best for all. With the hammer pulled back and finger on the very sensitive trigger I slowly placed the barrel deep in my mouth. I thought at least that the pain of life would be over with the sudden pain of death.
Then Dick's poem floated in my consciousness and I though "what will my children think when they hear the explosion? What will they find, and how will they survive?" I knew in that instant where my friend had been, and why he stopped. He saved all of us, and no one knew but me.
The next day seemed brighter, and options that weren't there before seemed to be possible. I had often though of that expression "it is always darkest before the dawn" and wondered how you could tell when it was darkest. I know now.
This story is based on a poem that a friend wrote about his brush with suicide. I thought at the time he shared it that while it was well written and darkly attractive, it held no real meaning for me.
Some years later I was perched on the edge of a very dark place. In hindsight I know it was a depressed and lonely place, a place with all options closed and no way out. Very early one morning I loaded my 44 magnum with a single cartridge and moved quietly to the family room. I sat a while trying to think of any unexplored options, and found none. The path was clear and best for all. With the hammer pulled back and finger on the very sensitive trigger I slowly placed the barrel deep in my mouth. I thought at least that the pain of life would be over with the sudden pain of death.
Then Dick's poem floated in my consciousness and I though "what will my children think when they hear the explosion? What will they find, and how will they survive?" I knew in that instant where my friend had been, and why he stopped. He saved all of us, and no one knew but me.
The next day seemed brighter, and options that weren't there before seemed to be possible. I had often though of that expression "it is always darkest before the dawn" and wondered how you could tell when it was darkest. I know now.
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