I used to think suicide was incredibly selfish. Friends and family are left with questions they have no hope of ever answering, and most of them start with, "Why?" Then one of the world's most beloved entertainers takes his own life, someone who outwardly appears to have everything - fame, fortune, family, the adoration of (literally) millions of people - and it opens the door for a lot of conversations. Real conversations, not just lip service. And then when it hits closer to home, .... I've been thinking about this a lot over the last week and I can't get my thoughts to form a coherent statement. I'm trying to ditch all the platitudes and find a pattern in the jumble of fragments left behind in my head, but it's a mess in there.
All I have is this:
There's no easy answer. There is never going to be an easy answer. There's just a painful story behind every suicide and every single one of them calls for less judgment and more compassion. I cannot imagine what it would feel like to be chased by such big demons, I just know it must be incredibly exhausting. It doesn't matter how many drugs you take or how many shrinks you see, because at the end of the day - at the end of
every day - there is only one person out on the front lines fighting that battle. And my heart hurts for the people who feel they need to lose in order to win.
RIP, Howie. Rest easy.
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