As a child growing up in a small town, there are certain milestones that one looks forward to. Finally attending preschool at the local church for the first time. Finally boarding the big yellow school bus to kindergarten, bouncing with anticipation to meet all 70 of your peers, who in due time will become some of your closest friends. Finally leaving the comforts of the elementary school to cross the road and attend the high school and experience the long-awaited freedoms that come with it. One is certain of all the events that are to occur, because, for years, there has been no change in the occasions that have happened. However, like the floor of the ocean, things can unknowingly change in an instant.
For as long as I live, I will never forget the happenings and the lasting effects of that cold, early December day. I will always remember where I was at, what I was wearing, and who was around me when I first heard that announcement over the intercom for the teachers to “check their emails.” I will never forget the pale, glossy, shaking expression of the ever-tough physical education teacher as he calmly stated that one of our peers was no longer with us and had passed away. I will never not be disturbed by silence because on that day silence fell upon the classrooms, and sobs of disbelief began to break out as sadness rushed in with a mighty fury, filling the once joy-filled walls of my small town high school.
Not long after the class period ended, fellow students began to talk and mourn together. Words, like they do, ran wild. Did this beloved, well-known friend fall victim to some freak accident? Were the roads too icy that his vehicle made a fatal impact with some tree? As my peers and I began to question what had happened, the unimaginable answer arose: suicide. Not one of us were prepared for that news or the days to follow. We were not ready to stand in a snaking line to bear our condolences to the mourning family. We were not anticipating the speedy preparation of new songs that were to be sung to a grieving community. Most importantly, we were not ready to say goodbye to our friend. However, that was the present, and it was at that time our little school had no choice but to grow up.
From that day on, any news of a young person dying automatically elevates my blood pressure and all of my thoughts shift to that community. The fear that some other group of students may be suffering from similar circumstances as my peers and I had is very distracting because no one should have to experience that mass sadness. I always feel guilty hoping that it was a natural cause or accident that had taken that young life. Anything is better than knowing that an unexpected death could have been prevented by simply asking how someone's day is going. Mental health is not something to be taken lightly, and suicide is no joke.
It is strange how a tragic event, like the death of a friend, can bring a group of people even closer together. We had developed a new bond and deeper friendships. Even though we may not get along, or may not even speak, I know that I can call upon any member of my graduating class for help and understanding at any time. If you or someone you know may be contemplating suicide, seek help. The lasting affects stick with a community for a lifetime. For help, call The National Suicide Hotline at 1 (800) 273-8255, hop online and google suicide hotline for instant chatting opportunities, you can even call 9-1-1. Just remember that you are not alone. Help is out there
