Sadness

Today I attended the memorial service for an old friend. I have waffled about whether or not I wanted to include this in my blog, but I think perhaps it will have value for me. Or maybe for Someone else, some day, in an unforeseen way.
Parker attended the funeral with me, and he did great. I had hoped that with a full belly and clean diaper, he would drift off to sleep. He didn't. He was awake the whole time, and decided to chat a bit during the service. He followed that up with a nice diaper blow-out. A fantastic example of a parent-hood moment.
*** - Erik Thomas ****, 35, of Portland, Ore., passed away unexpectedly August 6. He is survived by his parents, Tom and Gail ***; his siblings, Matt and Rachelle ***, and Alex and Ashley ***; his nephew and nieces. A National Merit Scholar who attended Calvin College, U of M and Portland State University, Erik also served in the U.S. Air Force. A memorial service will be held...
Erik ended his own life. It appears he planned it for some time and perhaps did not reach out to friends or family for help. What he leaves behind are mourning family and friends who are hurt, and heartsick, and angry. Why did he hurt so much? Why did he choose a permanent solution to a temporary problem that ends up making things so much worse for those who cared about him? Why didn't he have faith in friends and family, that they would try to help him? How could he have been so inexplicably selfish?
I know, logically, that in that moment, in that time, he probably had no concept of the repercussions of his act, and that he was probably extremely focused on what seemed like overwhelming, unsurvivable pain. It probably wasn't a selfish act in his mind.
It takes an incredible force of will to complete such an act. The mind and the body are hard-wired to survive. Did he have a split-second of doubt after he performed the act? Did he think "Oh my god, what have I done?" In the days before, did he look for someone, anyone, to connect with him. To give him enough positive interaction to believe that maybe the world did care about him? Have I ever been that person on the street who wasn't polite when someone else was just looking for a little eye contact?
But he leaves behind "Survivors." They who loved him are now survivors of a tragedy, a trauma. A lifetime of questions and doubt, anger and sadness.
Every day, as I change Parker's diaper, or brush Maia's teeth... as I care for my children, I think about how much I love them. I love them so much my heart could burst. There is nothing I would not do to protect them. I look at them and think how that nothing they could do would keep me from loving them: even if I'm mad, or disappointed or hurt by their choices.
And I think that Erik must not have known this about his parents. That 35 years ago, his mother was changing his diapers, and was overwhelmed by the love she felt for her beautiful boy. His dad was proud of his son, excited to be a father, and to learn together as a family.
It's a sad thing when a life is cut short by an illness or a tradgedy. It is intensely difficult to come to terms with when a person makes this choice willfully.