I’m waiting for the LIRR train. I notice how fast the trains that don’t stop speed by. It seems like a more efficient way to move through space compared to the subway. The subway feels slower by comparison, and if you’re not paying attention, it can catch you off guard.
Now I notice birds flying by. I see pigeons trying to eat the salt off the floor. I wonder if they’re too cold or hungry. Then I think about squirrels and their ongoing search for food and survival. It’s tough to see animals struggling.
This song comes on and I start wondering: what was my dad feeling that led him down the path he chose? What was going on inside his head? What did that lifestyle make him feel? What pushed him there and kept him there for so many years? Then I think about my mom and what she must have gone through dealing with all of it. The more I think about it, the sadder I get. These thoughts keep flooding my mind, and even now, standing on this train platform, I’m holding back tears.
I’m heading to physical therapy, and my mind keeps jumping around to all kinds of random thoughts along the way. It’s one of those days where everything feels a little scattered and restless.
I can’t get the face of my gym friend out of my head, the one who ended his life. He was a police sergeant and a genuinely great person. I feel so sad for his fiancée. She’s deeply hurt, and people are supporting her, but survivor’s guilt and the “I should have known” feeling can be very heavy. I keep wondering: could just one conversation with him have made a difference? Probably not, but I can’t stop thinking about what if he had known someone next to him was struggling too. Would that have mattered?
But we weren’t on that level. At the gym, we didn’t have those kinds of deep talks. There was nothing I saw that made me think I should bring it up. Honestly, I didn’t have any reason to share my own struggles with him either. Still, I feel bad. Even though I know there’s probably no scenario where I could have helped him, it’s hard not to think about it.
I’m almost at my physical therapist’s office now. I’ll greet him, smile, joke about random things, and do the work. Even though we’re pretty open with each other, I doubt we’ll talk about this. The topic of suicide makes people uncomfortable, and it’s not something I bring up with many.
All these thoughts raced through my head in just a few moments. Writing them down took longer than thinking them. Even after writing and rereading this, it feels like I’ve only begun to explore everything bouncing around in my mind.
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