A guy I know died yesterday.
I'd known him for a very long time, though we were never friends as such.
We first knew each other when we were young teenagers in the school pipe band.
We occassionally chatted when we met in one of the local pubs.
How ya doin', grand, and yerself?
That kinda thing.
He was always a quiet, minding my own business, never wanting to know your business person.
He shot himself thru' the head.
I've lost more than one close friend through suicide. And still, I don't get it.
O.K. I realise that each one of them must have been very depressed.
At the very fucking end of the line.
Obviously with nothing to live for. And still I don't get it. I don't. I love life.
And my life hasn't been exactly easy. But I love living. The challenge.
Every day I wake up is a day I look forward to. Another challenge.
I hope I will never be as low as those friends I have lost.
I hope my children will be burying me as a dear old Gramps.
I hope I keep this attitude.
I hope to die old and fulfilled. I do.
But who knows.