JT

The following is a reprint of a post I made some time ago at Dantallion's Canon. I reproduce it here in honour of a dear friend. I met JT in the spring of 2001. I was wandering around my new neighborhood on a mild spring evening, and ended up in the park right in front of my home. He wandered in as well, we struck up a conversation, and spent the next 4 hours or so chatting and laughing. I learned a lot about him in that first meeting. He and his partner of 10 years lived just about a block away. At 30 years old, he was wildly successful professional with his own business, well respected, a large circle of friends, and (as I later experienced first hand), a very tight-knit family. It was a truly pleasant experience getting to know this good looking, sharp-minded, always laughing (bordering on mischievous), and well traveled, energetic guy. We became fast friends. It wasn't long before we were calling each other every day, going for walks, movies dinner, going out with his partner and friends. With time, he began to talk to me about other things. I soon realized that he had been battling some pretty extraordinary and deeply personal demons. He maintained a pretty positive attitude about it, but he clearly wanted to talk. Apparently, he had never spoken to anyone about these things until I wandered along. Not even his partner. We spent hours talking about all of it. He was incredibly frank and matter-of-fact, and with time, I suggested that he seek counseling just so that he could talk to someone unbiased, who might give him some perspective on it. He eventually agreed, and we made the arrangements. Our friendship continued to evolve throughout that period and after, and he flourished even more as he got a clearer perspective on things. I was overwhelmed by how thankful he was to me for the talks we had had. In August of 2003, I had started experiencing a bit of a (professional) rough patch of my own, and spent the better part of the next three months working things out. In that time, I withdrew a fair amount, rarely going out, and effectively distancing myself from friends and family, whom I didn’t communicate with nearly as much as usual, JT included. I tend to be a bit of a hermit when life gets silly, until I can sort things through. By November I was starting to come back out into the mainstream. JT took his own life in November 2003. His partner came home and found him. Friends, family, and even work colleagues swear up and down that they never saw it coming, that there had been absolutely no signs. JT had left a note, instructing us all not to look for reasons why he’d done it, that he wanted those reasons to die with him. He also made it clear that there was to be no funeral under any circumstances. He simply wanted to vanish quietly. Family and friends finally decided to compromise, and we had a gathering at a hotel, where we could all reminisce, look at photos, etc. While I was there chatting with people, it became very clear to me that even those in his closest entourage had no idea about the problems he had experienced. They were all searching for a reason. It seemed impossible to everyone that someone like him could do this. I was really torn, and feeling terribly guilty about having not really been around the past 3 months. I could have talked to his partner or family about what I knew, maybe helping them to get some insight into ‘why’. I ultimately chose to say nothing, out of respect for his wishes, our friendship and the trust he’d given me. To this day, I honestly don’t know if it was the right thing to do. November 17 2004 And now, at the anniversary of his loss, I'm still not sure that ultimately it was the right choice, knowing what I know about how his partner and family have fared. But I do find some solice in the knowledge that I respected a dear friend's wishes. That loss, coupled with my experiences in the past little while, have reinforced in me certain basic truths. Like the importance of reaching out to people, not being afraid to let them know that you care about them. Making people realise that they're not alone. That they don't have to carry the load themselves. That no matter what happens, there will always be someone there to help pick up the pieces. Not because it sounds good, but because you genuinely care about people. And because losing just one person because they couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel is one of life's biggest tragedies. WYSIWYG never had a better application. I miss you.