Death, beer and kindness

Nov. 19 is International Survivors of Suicide Day. In honor of that day, and in memory of my friend who killed himself, I decided to share my story of suicide survival.

The kindest person I ever met was a drunk Irishman on a street corner late one night in June, 2005.

I remember it so well because it was just a day or two after my best friend, Sal, had died. Sal, who was only 18 years old, had been feeling sad and confused. I knew this because I talked to him just the day before he died. The next night, Sal took his father’s .22, pressed the barrel to his forehead and pulled the trigger.

It was two weeks before his high school graduation.

To say “it was a shock” is to put things mildly. Sal was a happy guy — I knew he was upset, but I never would have suspected that he was suicidal. If I had, maybe things would have ended differently. But this story isn’t about ifs and buts.

The night of Sal’s funeral, after I had helped carry my best friend’s casket into and out of the church, a handful of my close friends (who were also friends with Sal), got together at our friend Erik’s house. Someone had brought over a 12-pack of some fruity thing that wasn’t beer (it was all that was available late on a Sunday night), and we were having a drink and reminiscing about Sal. Then myself, my friend Ed, and our friend Mark decided that we wanted to get a cigars and smoke them. I don’t remember exactly why, but we felt like it would be a good thing to do. Mark, who hadn’t been drinking, drove us.

After 20 or 30 minutes of fruitlessly searching for an open store where we could purchase cigars, we finally found an open 7-Eleven and purchased a pack of Dutch Masters (note: NEVER smoke Dutch Masters). They were cheap and awful, but it was the best we could do. The three of us drove back to Erik’s house, stood outside and lit them up, remembering our friend.

Erik lived on the corner of the road, and that’s where we were standing when we heard a strange noise coming down the block towards us. We had no idea what it was, and we got a little nervous. It was rumbling and growly and getting louder. It wasn’t until we saw a man dragging a cooler walk into the glow of a street light that we realized what the noise was.