Earlier this week I posted about my friend’s suicide last Sunday, and how I felt guilty that I hadn’t accepted his Friend requests on Facebook. He posthumously Friended me today (actually, the person who’s running his Facbook page did).
I got to see his wall and get bird’s eye glimpses of his life that I should’ve had when he was alive. It was filled with so much love. I tried to find some clues as to why he killed himself, but there wasn’t much information from the hundreds of people who left messages expressing shock - other than an enormous amount of love. A couple of the messages suggested that he had struggled with depression.
His photos and status updates were full of messages from someone who truly loved life, and his young son. He was the kind of man whose status update told how one of the best moments of his life was getting to watch his son through the window of his first grade classroom on his first day of school.
This is one of his photographs:
It turns out that his theme – his mantra – was:
LOVE
LIFE
He had a beautiful garden…
This was not someone who hated life. He wore groovy, amazing clothes (like, red bowling shoes! I don’t know anyone besides him who could get away with red bowling shoes!) He loved the Beetles, collected fine art and music, thrived at the top of his game in his career. I still haven’t found out why he killed himself, or what was going on to drive him to the point of suicide. But when I do, I hope it will help me to understand.
My mother’s father committed suicide after a lifelong battle with depression. Even though she was in her 20′s when it happened, it tormented her for the rest of her life. She would call out “Papa!” in her sleep, often. Like my friend, people said my grandfather loved life, too. And roses. He’d pluck one off a bush in his garden and give it to a lady who might be walking by.
This Love Life photo was on my friend’s Facebook page – he put these lights on the balcony of his house in San Francisco on Christmas Eve, and kept them up:
I’m pretty sure that after they die, people hang around Earth awhile and show themselves to the people who knew them. This happened to me with my friend minutes after I wrote the post about him, and it happened with my mom and dad too.
The day after my mom died, the clouds rearranged themselves into carbon copies of doodles she used to draw while she was talking on the phone. When we were little she played this game where she would look at the clouds with us and call out the shapes.
I looked the sky. The clouds were moving around fast – even though there wasn’t much wind.
I saw Zhivago, her white Samoyed and constant companion. I saw a poolside chaise lounge (she spent half her life sunning herself on one).
I saw a girl in a dress (my mom wanted to be a dress designer – she was always drawing girls in pretty dresses.)
Then I saw her face with swirly hair. She often drew her own face with swirly Marilyn Monroe hair – I’d find these drawings everywhere, on scraps of paper, and matchbooks.
I pointed this amazing sky out to my husband, the skeptic, who agreed: it was astonishing.
At that moment – just as we were marveling at the sky – my sister (who lived 3 hours away) called. She didn’t even say hello. She said:
Are you looking at the sky? Are you seeing this?
She too saw that our mom was doodling for us up in the sky.
We knew it was her.
At my dad’s funeral we used a poem about a meteor by Jack London, because that’s what he was like:
I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The proper function of a man is to live, not to exist.
That night we were outside in the hot tub, and we looked up and saw the brightest star shoot across the sky. My husband (the skeptic) saw it too – he said,
There he goes. Blazing across the sky, of course.
We knew it was him.
We set up an impromptu memorial on our dining table – old photographs, albums, flowers that he loved, mementos, a candle lit in his honor, his ever-present pipe and a pouch of Amphora pipe tobacco.
People would stop by and sit at the table and look through the photographs.
Every day we lit a candle. Then one day we decided it was time to put the memorial away. We blew out the candle. All three of us saw that it was out. We went into the kitchen and came back a while later.
The candle had relit itself.
We knew it was him.
So we lit the candle for a few more days. He wasn’t quite ready for us to snuff him out, yet.
His funeral was the day before Fiona was born – we think they crossed paths – my dad on his way out, Fi on her way in.
When she was four weeks old my husband had to travel to the Middle East so we were on our own. The day my husband left, I checked on her as she was napping. There was the unmistakeable and distinctive scent of Amphora pipe tobacco surrounding her. I thought I had lost my marbles, so I went out and came in again. It was still there.
The scent of my dad and his pipe.
For three days and nights, the scent of Amphora surrounded her bed until on the third day, I called a friend and asked her to come over because I was starting to get a little freaked out.
The scent went away. He was there just long enough to let me know his love was surrounding Fiona.
After I heard about his death, my friend was on my mind all day, and I wrote a post about him. I wrote about how he introduced me to the Cowboy Junkies – a band you hardly ever hear anymore. I finished writing the post, got in the car to pick up the girls – and guess what song came on the radio just when I started the car?
Misguided Angel, by the Cowboy Junkies.
Okay? I haven’t heard that song on the radio since…the 90′s.
I knew it was him.
Goodbye sweet friend with your sweet smile. Even though I know you’re still around for a little while…
PS: I wish you could have reached out to some of the many friends who loved you.
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Do you believe that after they die people show themselves to the people who knew them? I do. —–> http://t.co/iJZ3vX1S
Absolutely one hundred percent no doubt in my mind they do. It’s happened to me … three times as well. I had chills over my entire body reading this Ado. I think though, one must be open to these signs and it’s very evident we both are. I love stuff talking about stuff like this…but I’m so sorry about your friend Tom. So very sorry.
Twitter: januarydawn1
Hey January I think you’re right – the signs are all there, we just have to be open to them. Still, it’s a little freaky though isn’t it? Chills!
Twitter: Adothemomalog
After my grandmother passed away many years ago, there was a moth hanging around me for days.
The Chinese believe that moths are spirits of loved ones come to make sure you’re okay. I know, it sounds like baloney, but that moth gave me comfort.
That’s a beautiful Cowboy Junkies song.
Twitter: MamaWantsThis
A moth? That is so sweet. Now every time I picture you in my mind Alison I’m seeing this little moth nearby somewhere, too. That was just so sweet – I’ll be it was your gran!
Twitter: Adothemomalog
Such stories Ado. You are blessed to have those. Thinking of you.
Twitter: Chosenchaos
Oh Ado, looking at those pictures, it’s hard to understand how someone who seemed to love life… to celebrate it, even, ended up taking his own life. But such is life and its mysteries.
Like you, I do believe that people who died–they lingered for a little while before they pass on to their final resting place. When my mother in law died in 2000, her presence in her house was so strong that first week after the funeral, I had no doubt that she was still there during those times. Perhaps just a way of her saying her final farewell to the people she loved the most.
Sending you lots of hugs, dear friend.
Twitter: dosweatthesmall
Sweaty, that is so powerful – how strongly you felt your MIL’s presence in her house after she died. I wonder who I’ll be hanging around after I go?
Twitter: Adothemomalog
Love this post. So very thoughtful and rings so true. Thank You!
Thanks very much Helen. (-:
Twitter: Adothemomalog
Totally, totally, totally believe. I think it’s pretty cool that you did get to see what he was about via his Facebook. And it’s also sad. Thanks so much for sharing these parts of you
Twitter: xlmic
(((Thanks)))
Twitter: Adothemomalog
This is a beautiful post. It comforts me to think that our loved ones might be capable of reaching out to us when we’re grieving them the most. It helps to know that everything is connected at all times, even if we’re limited by our humanity and can’t always see it.
Twitter: TheBareMidriff
I chose to think you are on to something. Lovely post Ado.
Twitter: NorthWestMommy
You know there is a song by the Pretenders and one of the lines is “There is a thin line between love and hate” and I really think that sometimes people who are really depressed can also be so very very happy, but sadly it is the depression that takes them away in the end….I can only hope it is to a better place.
BTW I do believe that people come to us after they die. I know my mom is watching me and helping me every single day. Megan
Twitter: HaydensHope4FOP
I do know that song – you’re so right on that thin line between depression and overt joy. Maybe people who are depressed are able to feel immense joy/more alive then non-depressed people because they also know what real despair feels like – while most of the rest of us are only just skimming the surface of despair, compared to them.
So nice you know your mom’s all around you and helping you. xoxo
Twitter: Adothemomalog
Wow I’ve never experienced anything like that so it’s a really amazing story to me. It’s so sad to hear about your friend who, as you say, was obviously someone who loved life.
http://beingmama.com/
http://ohsoprettylife.blogspot.com/
Twitter: alexandrarose8
So sad to hear about this loss. You wrote a beautiful memorial. Suicide is a very complicated thing that eludes even suicide experts. We still don’t understand fully the risk and protective factors associated with it. It’s not even particular to depression. And many times it doesn’t occur when someone is fully depressed because during deep depression, one rarely has the energy – sometimes it happens when their energy has increased but the low mood hasn’t lifted (which is why people are monitored closely in the beginning stages of medication treatment). Sometimes it’s an impulsive thing. Sometimes people try to pretend on the outside the opposite of what they feel on the inside hoping they will convince themselves. Either way, it can leave loved ones in shock, confused, desperate for answers. I hope his family can find some peace in the way he tried to embrace life harder than most people could imagine.
Thank you – I know this is your field of expertise (psychology) and I appreciate your thoughtful perspective.
Twitter: Adothemomalog
Wow, what a powerful and moving post. I loved reading about your Mom and Dad visiting you after they passed, it made my heart warm thinking of their love lingering behind for a while before moving on. The story of your friend breaks my heart though, such a tragic loss. I realized as I went back to read your first post, that I already had after you first posted it. I didn’t comment on it because it was so sad, I didn’t know what to say. I am way too familiar with depression issues, and I know that some people really do burn brighter and faster, and their emotions can be so much more intense than those of others. The love of life can be so intense that it can hurt, the happiness so powerful that it can be overwhelming, and then the dark times, the depression can be so deep that it’s like the rest of it was never there. I don’t know if that was the case with your friend, it’s just such a tragic loss when someone cannot find some way to go on, to live and get the help that they need.
The title of this post gave me chills as soon as I got to your page. I had just responded to the beautiful, amazingly kind comment you had left on my blog post about my son’s father, and then came here. Your title, Misguided Angel, that was our song. Clearly I needed to connect with you today, thank you so much for sharing your story!!
Twitter: MillenialMonstr
Thank you for your thoughtful comment…I left a long one on your blog. (-:
Twitter: Adothemomalog
What a beautiful post, Ado. I have had things like this happen as well. To share just one briefly: when my mom died, I saw her in the trees. I would be crying so hard, and then look to the trees swaying back and forth and feel here there calming me, as if she was stroking my hair again. Then, one year later, when my dad passed away, she was gone, no longer in the trees. I knew they had found each other again.
Twitter: SJM_CookiesMom
Okay, wow —-> that was such a beautiful image of your mom in the trees and then her going away because the two of them found each other, again. Wow. Chills.
Twitter: Adothemomalog
I don’t know what to say. I am in tears here. I often wonder if our loved ones send us messages from beyond. It seems way too hokey pokey for me, but even I, the skeptic, have to admit that sometimes, there’s an unmistakable meaning behind things we see, hear, and experience. I am so very sorry that you lost a friend, and I hope that wherever he is, he can find peace.
Twitter: LauraMiri
So do I …. So do I. Thanks for your kind words. (-:
Twitter: Adothemomalog
Regardless of what I believe, you have just described really precious moments. That moment with your mother doodling in the sky sounds very
special. I’m sorry for the loss of your friend.
Twitter: applesndroses
I really do believe that was your mom, your dad, and your friend. This was so heartbreaking…and beautiful. I love his lights and his gorgeous garden. And his mantra. I’m very sorry for your loss.
Twitter: chicktuition
Thanks Chicky.
Twitter: Adothemomalog
Reminds me of the eerily comforting things that Anna found after her son died, which she chronicles in Inch of Gray… Your post is lovely and I hope that you’ve shared it with others who loved your friend…I think it’s entirely possible that the dead stay with us in many different ways long after their bodies have shuffled off the coil – stars, scents, images, clouds…it’s all possible.
Twitter: mannahattamamma
I’m glad I stumbled across this post because Erica’s Twitter account started spewing old tweets from lovelinks. May be coincidence, but may be not. I found comfort in this, on a day I needed it. Thank you for sharing your life. -Ellen
Twitter: SensibleMoms
Thank you ever so for you blog article.Really thank you! Keep writing.
the reader permission to dream; and dream…
big. “we created a kind of energy that is consuming the earth and we all have to find a new planet.” wow. my imagination is on fire with what that energy could be and where we could possibly go.if done well…
[...] it was the unexpected death of an old friend who took his own life in San Francisco. He was a fantastic, vibrant light – the kind of [...]
I love this Ado. Beautiful tribute. Suicide is an unimaginably painful human mystery really. Leaves loved ones bereft and scarred in a way sudden death, which I have experienced A LOT, does not. Been there with the hanging around of souls. Just love your blog Ado n way it brings me back always into the moment. Thank you.
Twitter: katekerrigan
Thanks Morag – means so much to me. xo