Thursday, June 29, 2006

Hangovers and Tears

We were out until last call at our favorite pub, the Dell, last night. We took our friends there, who met up with some of their friends, all to drink a dram of single malt to their friend who committed suicide last Friday.

It was surreal to sit a table and listen to stories of someone you’ve never met but still felt like you knew because he had become real through all the stories. Our friends talked about him often, and we were actually supposed to meet him and his wife a year ago, kind of a melding of the separate friendships into one, but it didn’t happen. The mutual friends moved away, and we got settled into our own life here. Is it selfish of me to say I’m glad that meeting never happened? How much harder would this be if I had met him, his wife, and his 2 ½ year old son?

It’s already harder than I thought. When friends need a place to stay, you automatically offer it to them. I concerned myself with getting fresh sheets on the bed, dusting and moping, cleaning out the bathtub, baking something with chocolate in it, and having plenty of coffee beans for the morning and beer for the rest of the day. I forgot the emotional toll it can have, however. I’ve had someone close to me commit suicide, and the memories are flooding back a little faster than I can handle. I didn’t realize how letting my friend talk about how she’s feeling would force me to relive what I had been through, resulting in me talking about my experience to show her that I understand. It’s not the first time we’ve cried together, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.

They’ll be gone all day today at the funeral and a “beer call.” I imagine they’ll be out all night, too. She wants to include me, so she’s invited me along, but I’m going to keep my distance and let them mourn with the people who shared his friendship. And my hubby is going to go into work (I know, that sounds funny, but he’s coming off of a shift, so technically he’s off for a couple of days), so I have the house to myself today. I think I may just sit and enjoy the quiet for awhile. Maybe say a little prayer for lost friends.


saz said...

This is so sad. I feel terrible for all and especially for the poor guy who felt there was no hope.

Betty said...

I was afraid it might upset you, but I imagine that you are a big help to your friends right now, simply because you know how they are feeling. Besides, you are a compassionate person, and if it's comfort they are looking for, they have come to the right place.

F&W said...

I'm thankful these friends have someone such as yourself to talk with. Maybe one day they'll remember how you extended your hand of friendship and they'll be able to do the same for someone else in a bad way.

Kell said...

Thanks everyone. Today seems to be better for everyone. I would imagine that will be the pattern--a little better each day.

Lisa said...

I'm sorry, Kell. Enjoy the quiet and know that there are friends here to talk to after you let your thoughts wash over you.