A couple weeks ago a friend of mine called me in a tearful panic, reaching for me while trying not to take away from my own pain. His own nephew tried, and failed, to commit suicide. My mind tipped over and I lost my balance. It dizzied and all the fright and fear I felt weeks ago, surfaced and was placed in my lap via the other end of the phone. Think, Yolie, think. I shoved my personal feelings behind the door I've held open for all to see, and focused on him and his family instead. Out poured all the resources and questions and warnings I could think of. Everything I feel I should've done with Charley, I acted with this family and nurtured my friend as best I could with words of fierce encouragement and straight talk. This would not be an easy feat, heck, no feat in sight for some time. If I could reach through the phone and shake all my post-suicide awareness knowledge onto him, and knead it into his skin so that he reeks of salvation and rescue, I would.
I anxiously awaited a call. A visit. Offered to personally talk to his nephew to provide insight and hardcore perspective. I was willing to answer almost anything, by sharing honesty and a loving attitude. The next day the family had him hospitalized and evaluated. And I received the following message:
"You helped us save his life. I cannot thank you enough. There are no words for how grateful both my sister and I are to you. We both would have been directionless without you. I mean that from the deepest part of my heart and soul".
I. Helped. Save. Someone's life.
It's bittersweet. I'm numb with envy and electrified with relief. I couldn't save Charley, but I channeled my thirst for comprehension and I channeled Charley's energy. Thank you, bro. Thank you for helping me save someone else. I couldn't have done it without you.
No comments:
Post a Comment