The sorrow remains

Geoffrey Evert at the Lake Minatare lighthouse.

I still miss the boy who became a man. His wide smile and thoughtful nature could always cheer up my day. I remember all the moments of all the days he was here. On March 17, 2018, the making of memories ceased.

I became a two-time member of a group I never wanted to join. I’m a four-time member now.

I’ve known too many people lost to suicide. I’ve learned of many more.

Western Nebraska has a suicide problem. Those who remain, refuse to speak about it. It’s brushed under the carpet like dirt we don’t want the neighbors to see.

I often feel alone and lost, adrift in a sea of emotions.

I’ve wept and wailed, shed tears, and held back salty liquids as they attempted to pour from my eyes.

I speak openly about suicide and my own previous struggles. The community says it needs to stop, but only those in the health and mental health fields ever really speak and try to effect change.

I feel as if I am a lone voice in a sea of silence.

I hurt. I’m in pain. Society still refuses to acknowledge or say the word: Suicide. They will say other, more viscous, words like selfish, asshole, and good riddance. They do not understand the suffering, the anguish of another who just wants to pain to stop.

In “A Farewell to Arms,” Ernest Hemingway wrote, “The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places,” about his observations about adversity and resilience. People use it to find strength and meaning in the aftermath of tragedy.

The full quote breaks my heart and continues to do so today. “But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.”

Things will not change and we will continue to lose people because we will not speak a word and will not remove a stigma to asking for help. At funerals you will hear kind words and a desire for change, but you will not hear that word. No, “it must not be spoken out of respect for the family.” It must remain under the rug with the dust bunnies.

I will remain a four time member of a group I never wanted to be in and I can never leave. I’m trying my hardest to keep new members out. I wish I was the last member to join, but I know, despite my best efforts, the group continues to expand.

So I pull myself together, blow my nose and wipe away the tears. I put my gloves on and climb into my car. Shifting into first gear, I notice the light coating of frost on the trees. It’s a snowy new day.

Somewhere in the world, a new member of my group is picking up the pieces and looking for comfort. Hopefully, they look under the rug.