A brother in Christ died suddenly on Wednesday. I remember getting the message from my husband saying that he received a call from our daughter, “I don’t know what she said… she was crying… I think she said Tommy died… I’m heading over to their house.”
The next call my husband said, “Tommy shot himself.”
I couldn’t believe it. I kept thinking it must have been an accident.
Tommy was always so calm and collected—he exhibited serenity and peace. It seemed like nothing seemed to really bother him.
We spent several hours with Tommy and my daughter in the waiting room before, during, and after his son’s (my son-in-law) surgery about two weeks ago. My husband and Tommy chatted about little things—books they’ve read, trips they’d taken, etc. Tommy seemed fine.
What did I miss? What kind of a counselor am I if I couldn’t see that something was wrong?
Now I wonder how many people I see that are really torn up inside—they are crying out for help but I can’t hear them. I am blind to their personal torment and pain.
As we drove back from Iowa, I look at the two little girls sitting in the backseat. My 4-year-old granddaughter says, “I miss Grandaddy.”
My heart sank. Tommy will never hug and kiss them again.
I wish I could turn back time for them. I wish the gun would have jammed… I wish an unexpected visitor would have changed Tommy’s plan that day…
The truth is no amount of wishing can change what happened. I just don’t want this to happen to anyone else.
Please, please, please talk to someone if you are thinking about ending your life. Let someone help you with your pain. We need each other. Death is not the answer.