Seeking Peace

My blog entries are generally centered around lightheartedness and humor, but you’ll find none of that in this post. The subject matter is too important.

I initially penned a whole other essay about this that was peppered with what could best be described as Pollyanna platitudes. I naively thought they might help someone in crisis. And while I was sincere in what I’d written, it was gently pointed out to me that I totally missed the mark. With a topic this delicate, a litany of pretty words can sometimes cause more harm than good. 

As I ponder that notion, it occurs to me that I probably have no business writing about this at all. It’s not as though I have any real answers. That being said, I still feel compelled to address what happened. 

One of my grandchildren recently lost a close friend to suicide. Her name was Ari. I didn’t have the chance to get to know her well, but I found her to be a polite, pleasant, and very sweet teenager. In short…I liked her. When I learned what had happened, I was stunned. 

For those of us who have never experienced true hopelessness, it’s impossible to fully grasp a despair so foul that taking our own life feels like the only way out. It’s a thought we can’t even entertain. But every day, a multitude of people are haunted by that thought, make their excruciating choice, and then follow through with it. They reach a point where no amount of counsel or intervention – regardless of how well-intended – can change their reality. 

I’m not privy to all the circumstances that led to Ari’s final act, nor should I be. That story isn’t mine to tell. But from what I understand, her situation was dire, and she saw no earthly solution. Taking her own life was tragic, but it was not a knee-jerk reaction. To Ari, it was the only thing that would set her free. 

I wish things could have been different, but wishing is fruitless. I’ll just pray for peace for Ari and for those who cared about her. And I’ll always be grateful that I had the opportunity to meet her.