Suicide?

A friend of mine once said, "Suicide is really a nasty word." I think he's right. It doesn't "sound" good or make one feel as if the action taken by someone was actually meant to be permanent. But, there it is - once it's done it cannot be un-done.

A cousin of mine recently committed suicide. She was the LAST person I would ever expect to do such a thing. She was always the one everyone wanted to be like - a track star in high school, a wonderful visual artist, and she even began writing, or maybe even finished a book of her own. She was a free spirit who always seemed to know what she wanted to do, or try, and did just that.

She was the same age as me. She was my Dad's favorite niece, really, and he was her favorite uncle.

It's really strange having death so easily available to us. Have you ever really thought about it? You can take pills, you can shoot yourself, you can slit your wrists, you can get hit by a moving vehicle, a train, you can even try and be a hero in a store robbery and get shot and still commit suicide.

Why?

My cousin, I found out, was very ill. She really needed a heart transplant, and perhaps she gave up and decided to end things on her own terms. I'm not proud of her for it, nor am I envious of her for taking matters into her own hands. The action she did just simply wasn't right. It was wrong. It is more a feeling than anything else. It was wrong to give up hope.

Maybe that's the worst thing about suicide. Giving up hope. I have been very close sometimes, but hope has always found its way back into my being. I just wish I could have talked to her and maybe helped her get a little hope back. Then again, it may not have changed anything. At least I have grown enough now to say, it's OK that I may not have been able to help her - it is just sad.