Suicides.

Four years ago, a co-worker committed suicide. I didn't know him all that well, but I liked his sarcastic, biting humor. Apparently though, he suffered throughout life with depression and had once before tried to commit suicide.

Earlier this year, my bff's neighbor's youngest son committed suicide, with a gun, at home, posting on Facebook that he was going to kill himself. His friends notified the police and the sheriff ended up going to his home, too late. Seemed like, when someone goes through the effort to post online, it's most definitely a cry out for help and the last signs of depression.

Yesterday, I found out that a neighbor across of my building, had committed suicide last year by jumping off the second floor of her townhouse. I had no idea she had committed suicide, but she did it in the middle courtyard of her townhome, and her husband was away at a coin collector show. I had no idea what happened to her until I finally asked one of her neighbors. I never noticed, in the times that I had talked and walked with her and their two dogs, that she was depressed, or maybe it was more than that? It's just so weird to think that, all this year, she was in fact dead; I never thought for a minute, when I never saw her, that she had killed herself.

It's just weird that I now know about three completely unrelated suicides in four years. Does this happen to other people too? Weird.

I was sitting outside with my dog in the late afternoon and the temperature around 75 degrees, enjoying the sound of the river lapping along the banks, and the sounds of the busy little people going home, jogging, walking, jet skiing...and I could not imagine why one would want to die. Every pain is accompanied by small moments of calm joy. Suffering is par for the course, but so is enjoying the sun, the birds, flowers, and fuzzy dogs. If I were both blind and deaf, I would no doubt be depressed, but still, I'd have my sense of smell, taste and feel, and the memory of those sights and sounds that accompanied those scents, flavors and touch.

I could be homeless, but then again, that might be liberating, don't you think? If I were homeless, I'd take the opportunity to hobo it on the railways to visit different parts of the continent. I'd take the opportunity to sneak into National Parks and live off the land. I'd take the opportunity to write a book on paper with a pen, "The diary of a homeless person", and try to self-publish it.

But I wouldn't kill myself.

Life is too vast and wild to not want to experience and savor every last drop of living. Even what might be considered a mundane life, is filled with little moments of joy and beauty. Who wouldn't miss the taste of a microbrew beer, or the sweetness of dark chocolate truffles? Who would want to miss out on the joy of speaking to someone with interesting life stories? And OMG, what about Netflix?

Say no to suicides, and yes to drinking in every bit of life that you can!