My sister called last night to tell me that a guy I had grown up with killed himself yesterday morning.  I took this hard.  It’s not like we were really close.  In fact we only saw each other a few times a year at family gatherings.  His dad and my dad were good friends.  Both of them had moved from Iowa to Colorado and had no other family out here, so we sort of became each other’s surrogate families.  Mike and I were the same age and his sister and my sister were the same age, so it worked out nicely for everyone.  We didn’t associate with each other outside of these family functions, but while we were together we had fun.  We joked, we flirted, we made fun of our parents; typical adolescent innocence.  My favorite memory of him is when we made our annual Easter Sunday visit when I was 14.  We walked in and his mom said “I’m not sure where Mike is, he just disappeared."  His little sister laughed and said, “He went upstairs to hide his Easter basket so that Jenn doesn’t know that the Easter bunny still visits him.”  I thought he was going to kill her, and he wouldn’t even look at me for the first hour I was there until his dad said, “Not talking to her is not going to make her forget about your Easter basket upstairs.”  He ended up sharing his chocolate bunny with me while talking about how he wished he had a different family.  I offered him mine, but he passed.  He got married his sophomore year in college.  His dad told us they had wanted to wait until after college, but she had found out she was pregnant and her minister father told them to get married NOW.  They didn’t tell anyone about the baby except for a couple family friends.  At the wedding, the minister said, “Mike and K are not the only two people here are the altar.”  He continued, “Their union is also bringing together 2 families, two sets of friends, two worlds.”  Mike laughed like he thought the minister was going to spill the beans.  The wedding went on as usual, with the exception of the groom’s obvious emotion.  He cried openly throughout his vows.  And all through the reception he held onto his bride like he was never going to let her go.  The last time I saw him was 3 ½ years ago.  My baby sister was in rehab and his parents invited my parents and me over for dinner.  Mike pulled me aside and let me know that even though my parents were going through hell with my sister, that he was thinking of me.  He explained that he knows what it’s like to be the oldest and having to be the one responsible for helping everyone else get through it.  It meant a lot to me, not only because it was a wonderful thing to say, but also because I felt that old connection, like we were more than just family acquaintances.  I thought about sending him a card later, but as always, I put it off thinking that I’ll just wait until the next time I see him to let him know how much that meant to me. 

It now seems that Mike was battling his own addiction.  The addiction won.  I wish that he could have known how he touched other's lives, that it is ok to make mistakes and falter, that no matter how bad life gets, his family would much rather have him flawed and alive, than to be planning his funeral.  I wish that nobody ever has to feel so alone and that the only way out is through death.

Today, call that old friend you have been thinking of.  Call your mom, dad, brother or sister and let them know that you love them.  Write a letter to your grandmother.  Hug your children.  And say a little thank you for the chance to enjoy another day on this planet, and then go take advatage of everything life has to offer.