Damn. Damn. Damn.
What a bloody stupid waste.
No, he wasn’t a relative, or a friend. He was an employee of a client agency. I’d worked with him on some things over the years.
A troubled soul who left this life the other day by choice.
And who has left those who did care, who did try to help, hurting over it.
A soul in darkness. For whom I will, in a minute after I’m through being really really pissed here, send prayers to go into the light.
Speaking to a colleague today, Suz, our mutual thought was that we’d like to punch him in his goddamned face. There is anger. Sincere and deep-seated anger.
Then pity. Then prayers. Then only memories.
Thanks, kid, for caring.
There’s a young girl whose death still makes me feel anger: anger with her, with her parents, with her school, the police and the support agencies, and she killed herself three years ago.
As George said, you also move on to pity, prayers and memories. But the anger’s important, it springs from compassion and love for the one who was killed even though it was their choice.
With kindness.
Aphra.
Thank you for sharing that insight. And for the kindness.