{"id":37226,"date":"2023-11-17T09:14:00","date_gmt":"2023-11-17T14:14:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/healthymindsphilly.org\/?p=37226"},"modified":"2023-11-15T09:24:30","modified_gmt":"2023-11-15T14:24:30","slug":"losing-jack","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/healthymindsphilly.org\/dev\/blog\/losing-jack\/","title":{"rendered":"Losing Jack"},"content":{"rendered":"

Two years ago, I managed volunteer guides at a local museum. A college student named Jack collided with the museum like a meteor on a chilly fall day, took a tour, and decided to become a tour guide himself. All who knew him sensed Jack was living life at high speed.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Jack soon became a favorite at the museum. He was funny and insightful, and we became friends. One day, Jack sheepishly told me of his bipolar disorder. He was on a fast train to death, he said, and taking his life was his destiny. I asked Jack if he was medicated and had a therapist, and I tried to offer another perspective. Jack put me in touch with his parents in Kansas City, and they looked to me to be their contact while their son was at school in Philadelphia. Calling me his big brother, Jack developed a hilariously elaborate handshake for us.<\/span><\/p>\n

That spring, Jack slashed his arm with a knife. \u201cMy slashing,\u201d Jack would call it, self-consciously. After checking himself into an institution, he called. When I entered his room, Jack hugged me as tightly as a sailor in a storm might hug a ship\u2019s mast.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

After not hearing from him for two days the next fall, Jack\u2019s parents asked me to check on him. Numb, and fearing the worst, I left work and took a trolley to his home. In Jack\u2019s apartment I found a neatly made bed, a tidy desk, a distractingly hysterical landlord, and a typed suicide note. I shared the note with Jack\u2019s parents.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

At the end of the week, Jack\u2019s father called to tell me his son\u2019s body had been found.<\/span> Another friend of Jack\u2019s met with me to compare what we knew. Before his death, neither she nor I had known the other was Jack\u2019s friend. Jack had given us each separate fragments of his story and carefully guarded his struggles with medication.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Rather than struggle to find peace with Jack\u2019s suicide, my father showed me I can find peace with enduring grief. He lost a friend to suicide when he was young. \u201cIt stays with you,\u201d he said, \u201calways.\u201d<\/strong> <\/span><\/p>\n

The gravity of my father\u2019s voice as he said this dug a small place in my thoughts, a memorial, where grief can be honored and be at rest. A friend who follows Buddhism showed me I can place gratitude alongside grief. Instead of dwelling on a friendship\u2019s end, he said, he remembers it with thankfulness. Jack was not a fixed star; he was a comet, temporary. I am grateful to have been Jack\u2019s friend as he rocketed through the world and need not convince myself the sky isn\u2019t darker without his humor and insight.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The summer after his death I dreamed Jack was back at the museum giving a tour while I took artifacts from a library cabinet in preparation for a program. We talked, shared museum facts, and then I let him get on with his tour\u2014but not before telling him:\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll be keeping a closer eye on you this time, little brother.\u201d<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

About the Author: Andrew White\u00a0is the LGBTQIA+ Community Equity Engagement Specialist for the DEI Team at DBHIDS. He also writes for the Gay and Lesbian Review.<\/em><\/p>\n

Resources<\/strong><\/p>\n

If you or a loved one is coping with a suicide loss, ask for help. Here are some free resources:\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n