Struggles in Losing a Friend to Suicide

This makes number seven now. Seven people I have known who have committed suicide since 1993. There’s two forms of suicides. One is the deliberate, planned, orchestrated one, the other what experts call passive suicide like drinking yourself to death or ignoring a fatal medical problem till it’s too late.

To me the latter is no different than putting a gun to your head.The funeral today was for our friend T.C., known by his family which included a son and daughter as Tony, 43. Always bubbly, smile on his face till some educated haughty woman broke his heart. Then he wasn’t smiling so much any more. Not on the inside any way.

I got the news Sunday night when a friend called to give me the word. The first words out of my mouth are unprintable here but you can imagine what they were. The shock was that he was one person who I thought would never do it.

Isn’t that the way it always is?Well, sometimes, anyway. It all started back in 1993 with Stu, a guy I knew as a friend who became something else later. In his 20s he did it in his parent’s garage while visiting for Christmas.

That same year my friend Cameron who I also worked with left a cigarette lit, took a bunch of pills and never woke up. She died of smoke inhalation once her place caught on fire. She was 25, only married four months to a rich guy she didn’t love but who she married to please her parents as she was always trying to do.

In 1997 my friend Tommy died of AIDS. He was my hairdresser, too and my sister’s friend first. I didn’t find out he died till two years later because I had moved out of state. I was devastated to learn of this and hated that I never got to say goodbye. Tommy was so full of life but almost self-destructed on a daily basis. He took me to my first gay bar and us both being Italian we used to eat out a lot at different restaurants that celebrated our heritage. I miss him, too.

In 2001 there was Frank, my friend for five years, who at 44 died after drinking himself to death after a liver bypass. Three years before doctors told him to stop drinking but he never could or would. At one time he had years sober, long before I met him, I’m told and was very active in his recovery group. He used to do my hair, too, and this time of year I especially can’t help but think of him because we were both way into Halloween. He would style my hair, do my makeup and tell me all about his costume for that year. His house was always like something out of House Beautiful, beautifully decorated, with exquisite taste.

Barbara was someone I didn’t know well but well enough to be affected. She hung herself in a jail cell, high and drunk, plus full of prescription meds, her mom and dad at their wit’s end. Her father also happened to be dying of cancer. An only child, Barbara, who was my age, had been in and out of AA for years as well as NA and at one time had lengthy sobriety. But once she turned back for a final time she sunk lower than she ever had, doing crack, turning tricks, and living on the street at different times. Her death was written up in a newspaper article and the local authorities were investigating it to see if the jail staff was negligent. Belligerent and furious, she refused to be helped and at her funeral beautiful music was played against a gorgeous sun that she wasn’t able to witness.

Last year there was Tim, a friend of mine’s husband who I had known as long as I’d known her – since 1998. He was also in his 40s, had grown kids and hung himself in a tree with his belt. He had relapsed on cocaine, his drug of choice, and chose to do himself in the day before one of his son’s birthdays. His company where he worked shut down for the day for the funeral which was standing room only. He didn’t think anyone cared about him. Three months after he died he and his wife would have celebrated ten years of marriage.

Lastly, there was T.C. who died Oct. 8th. You probably wonder how I know these sad souls.Well, like many others I walk a tightrope called recovery from alcohol. So when you do that you see things, meet people who touch your life forever no matter how brief or how long a time you knew them. I don’t know how to reconcile all this in my head and heart.

A friend of mine today at the funeral said, “No sense asking why.” But the only thing I do know is that when we test the limits of our self-destructiveness we won’t win the battle no matter how tough we think we are.

I’ve spent my life pushing the envelope but there are some things I won’t play with and hope I’m not ever tempted to do so again. Some people say there are lessons in each death. I don’t know. The one lesson I have learned I guess is when you think no one cares you should see the crowd that shows up when it’s over.