Friday, February 02, 2007

The Ultimate Selfish Act

Sorry for the long pause. Things have been a little up in the air here. Today is FH's birthday, a day he shares with Punxutawney Phil. But this year, we're going to wait to celebrate...wait to find a little joy in a few weeks, perhaps.

Fearless Husband's grandfather took his own life last week, and FH is back in the US with his mom, grandmom and sister.

I just don't get suicide. Can I understand hopelessness? Yes. I understand being in pain, having a terminal illness, not wanting to "be a burden", etc. I can even understand (and support!) those with terminal illnesses and chronic severe pain choosing a Kevorkian way out, getting their affairs in order, saying goodbye, and checking out of their own free will.

I understand depression, too. Been there, done that. The Pit of Despair and the Slough of Despond are real, and true, and very, very dark.

But I don't understand ending one's life with a gun, in the home one shares with a spouse and a daughter and her husband. I don't understand splattering blood and grey matter for a "loved one" to find in horror and terror and grief....for one's wife or daughter or grandson to have to wipe off walls and scrub out of carpet.

Some people say suicide stems from hopelessness and from worthlessness. I think it comes from a place of extreme self-involvement.

It's the ultimate act of selfishness. I can hear the stifled sorrow and choked back bewilderment in FH's voice on the phone. I can hear the heavy drag of grief and betrayal in my mother-in-law's voice. FH's grandmother can barely move, much less talk on the phone, her pain is so great. And right now, at least, even though I'm trying to be understanding of the motives behind such a drastic decision, I'm mostly just angry.

I know it's out there. But today, at least, I find very little joy.