TW: Refers to suicide. Please proceed only if you are comfortable with the subject matter.
I remember him. I didn’t know him, never had a conversation with him. But his Dad was a teacher in the Science Dpt. of our school, so maybe that’s why I knew who he was. He was a year younger, but we were in the same Higher (A-Level) Geography class. He was smart, pleasant, seemed popular and worked hard. I never really thought about him once I left school.
Then one day, years later, I heard that he’d taken his own life. The rumour was that his Dad, the Science teacher, had found him dead in his bedroom. I don’t know if that’s true.
In the (roughly) seven years since we’d left school, he had gained a Degree, and was highly accomplished in Martial Arts of some sort. I think he coached younger kids, but I’m not certain.
I was shocked when it happened and, seven or so years later, it still shocks me. I don’t know why, but there’s hardly a day goes by where he doesn’t cross my mind at some point. Maybe because, at the time he died, my own illness was just starting to take root at the core of my brain. On my worst days, I wonder if I feel close to how he did, on the day he decided he couldn’t carry on. I remember the song I was listening to when I heard of his death. It was, and still is, one of my favourite songs, but will be forever tainted with a profound sadness.
I’m not sure what his situation was. I’ve heard he had Bipolar Disorder, as did/does his Mother. Maybe he was predisposed to suffer as she did/does…I don’t know. Again, that’s only rumour.
I wish I’d had more contact with him at school. I wish I knew him after school. I wish he had told someone how bad he felt, and what his plans were. I wish I could have helped him.
If you have been affected by this, please use this link: