02/02/20

He was a gentle, kind soul.
He was my oldest friend. He was a laughing, friendly man who could find the humour in most any situation or idea. He was irreverent and insane, he was a genius, he was an artist.

He was totally unprepared for life on his own. This wasn't anyone's fault. That's simply how he was. His parents are intelligent, loving people who raised him well, who supported him but didn't coddle him. He came from a very balanced family. His sister and brother are loving, well-adjusted people.

He was an artist, he could create beauty or humour with his hands and a pencil. I'll never forget how he could just reach out and draw a straight line, or a perfect circle without any effort at all.

He was a respectable, law-abiding person. There wasn't a violent molecule in his being, there wasn't a shred of larceny in him. I have no idea how we ended up being friends, but we did. We met in grade 8. I have no idea how, I don't remember meeting him. Near as I can tell we just fell together and have been together in one form or another ever since. That was 25 years ago, more or less.

Since graduation, of course, our time together has been limited. We would get together five or six times a year, talk, laugh, catch up and have some really good conversation. He loved my kids, my kids loved him. My wife adored him.

Last week his sister telephoned me and told me that he jumped off the Second Narrows bridge.

Now he's a memory, now he's dead.

His death hasn't hurt me as much as talking to his parents. A couple just as kind and nice as he was, who just retired a couple of years ago and have been enjoying themselves thoroughly. People like that shouldn't have to be told that their son is dead. No parent should be told that, ever.

There was so much confusion about what happened, and how that I took the most direct route I knew. I called up the Fire dispatcher for the department that responded. I then contacted the Captain who commanded the crew. I spoke to him, he told me everything I needed to Know.

The gist of the story was simple, he hadn't wasted any time and he hadn't suffered. His death was instantaneous. It was obvious that he wanted to die. He succeeded. Short of being there on the bridge and tackling him, there wasn't a thing I could have done as his friend to stop him.

People who are getting ready to do something like this are usually exceptionally good at hiding it from everyone around them. He was a genius normally, so he was better than most at hiding it. No one saw it coming.

His death was a tragic waste.

I'm glad that at least now whatever was hurting him isn't hurting him anymore.

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