Losing a Friend

A man I knew at the gym, Dr. Frank Ruiz, committed suicide by cop on Monday. He was a casual friend over the last two+ years, someone I talked to and joked with whenever I saw him. He was also a coworker of one of my clients, and the doctor who delivered the son of another client.

I saw him the morning of his death. We exchanged greetings as always, but I was busy with a client so I didn't get a chance to talk to him that morning.

In all the time I had known him, I never knew that he was suffering ongoing troubles in his marriage. And even though he apparently had been quite depressed of late, that was never evident when I saw him at the gym.

This whole thing has come as quite a shock. By all accounts, Frank was one of the kindest and gentlest men you might ever meet. No one saw this coming, aside from maybe his wife. I can only imagine her pain, and the pain of his children. My heart goes out to them.

I've known far too many people in my life who have suicided, including a high school friend and a very close friend several years later. As much as I can understand the pain that pushes one into that space (having once talked my close friend out of a suicide attempt -- which took the better part of a day), it troubles me every time it happens.

I've known despair so crippling that death seemed the best option. But I have never truly been in that place where I could take my own life. I can't imagine how hopeless one must feel to choose death over tomorrow.

I have always chosen tomorrow, and the tomorrow after that. One day at a time, always certain, however in the depth of pain and sorrow, that tomorrow will be better. I have often been wrong -- tomorrow has not always been better, but some place inside me there is the constant sense that whatever pain I am in is a lesson that I must pass through.

I hope that Frank's pain is over. My heart is with his family and friends. May all beings find that place of hope within themselves.

Tags: suicide, friends, life, death