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December 31, 2020

Gone, but not forgotten or forgotten, but not gone.

This time of year, particularly during the turbulence in our world, suicide is at its highest levels. Loneliness, loss, and uncertainty make even the strongest consider the sleep where “dreams may come.” In our disconnectedness, we need more than ever to be aware of those who are particularly vulnerable. The quiet ones. The non-complainers. We need to open our eyes and SEE everyone around us. This is a poem I wrote during a time of deep loss. I was fortunate to have people around me who saw me and reached out. Not everyone has that.

What is the worse thing to dread,
To be missed when I’m dead
Or missed when I am here?
The latter truly is my greatest fear.
The unseen eyes in a room of faces.
The hidden heart in familiar places.
To be looked right at and seen right through.
To hear your name when it’s not you.
It’s miserable.
No one hears you scream.
No one sees you bleed.
No resistance from a single soul.
No existence would leave a bigger hole
than standing in a crowd unnoticed.
Would you see me now, all focused
on the lifeless form beneath your feet?
The friend that you forgot to meet.
Would you finally hear the sound
and see the stain upon the ground.
When I leave this planet we are on,
then, will you remember me when I’m gone.

Don’t be silent.  Every soul matters.  If you have ever considered, attempted, or know someone that has died by suicide, then you know how this feels. The best thing we can do is talk about it and reach out.

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