Angel

 No, not like the angels I wrote about earlier.  This is much different.  I’ll explain in a minute.  And I promise this will be the last post on this subject, but I need to write this for my own peace of mind. This is about the Angel of Death.  

I’ve known Robert since we were 3 years old, almost 67 years.  We were two months apart in age. We grew up together, went all through school together, and even though we traveled different paths after high school, we remained friends and stayed in touch.  I stayed in Utica while he got a job in Saudi Arabia and lived there for nearly 30 years.  But no matter where in the world he was, he didn’t forget his old friend. He stayed in touch and would see me when he was back in the States. After he retired, he and his wife settled in the Orlando area in Florida   

I hadn’t heard from him in a couple of months, and I thought that was strange.  We usually email, text, or talk once a month or so. The day before yesterday, he committed suicide.  Told his wife he was going to run some errands, went to a store, bought a gun and ammunition, got in his car and killed himself there in the parking lot. He had been suffering with depression for years and didn’t tell anyone.

This has absolutely devastated me.  In high school, there were four of us who were best friends.  Robert, Tim, Reuben, and me.  Reuben was killed in a car wreck our senior year.  Tim drowned about a month after graduation.  Robert and I clung to each other to get through it. We talked about it, why they were gone and we survived. We’d always been close but that brought us even closer. Now I’m it.  The last man standing.

And I hate it.  I hate how this has made me feel. I hate that all the memories of how I felt as a 17 year old, burying two of my best friends, are coming back. And right now I’m in the stage of grief where I’m angry. I’m royally pissed off that he didn’t talk to me.  That he didn’t let me try to help him. 

And I feel partly responsible.  I had no idea he was suffering with depression.  He was a very successful man.  He seemed to be happy and enjoying retirement.  He always wanted to know what was going on in Utica and a lot of times the only news I had was when someone had died.  So I would email him and let him know if someone died.  He started calling me “The Angel of Death”!  It became a running joke with us.  Now I wonder if that contributed to his depression.  Should I have tried to find happier things to tell him?  I’ll never know. I just wish I’d told him what his friendship meant to me. I hope he knew.

I’m tired of death.  It needs to take a break.  I’ve lost too many of my people lately and it’s taking a toll.  If you have any prayers, good vibes, well wishes, or good juju for me I would greatly appreciate it.  I miss my friend. 

Edited to add this PSA:  Please, please, please, if you are dealing with depression, or have suicidal thoughts, or any mental health issues, please seek help.  Your family doctor, your clergy person, a licensed therapist, your local mental health agency, your spouse, or a friend.   Don’t suffer alone. Don’t leave your loved ones wondering what they could have done.  Get help, please.