Todd...It's your 39th birthday today, our second one apart. I miss you more than I ever thought possible. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd have to go on without you. Oh how I wish I could see your smile, hear your voice and your laugh again. I hope your shakes have left you and your nightmares no longer wake you from your restful sleep. I hope all of your pain has been replaced with happiness and peace. I hope your laugh and love of fun lives on, and even if the thought makes me a little jealous, I hope you have made lots of new best friends to share it with. Wait for me please and don't forget all the good times we had. I hope the coldness and desperation of "that night" are far, far behind you and you're warm and comforted by the love that was waiting for you in their place. I hope you are finally able to see and feel all the love those of us left here had and have for you. I hope you're still able to "crunch" on your guitar and you're rocking Heaven so hard the saints on the upper planes are dancing their wings off. I will never, ever forget you or quit loving you. You are in my heart and soul until the last breath I take here on earth to the first breath I take when we're together once again. Happy 39th birthday, Brother.

L8,

Lorrs

There was a huge stone wall in front of me. It separated me from my big brother, Todd. I knew I had to knock down the wall in order to save him, so I pushed and pounded on the wall with all my might. At the end of the day I had only knocked a couple of bricks out, but left feeling hopeful and went home to rest. The next day I returned to the wall feeling re-energized and ready to begin again, but when I arrived I found the wall re-bricked and my efforts of yesterday undone. Since it was early on in my battle, I was still hopeful that trying harder and working longer would eventually bring the wall down. Day after day and night after night passed and still the wall stood between us. My will unbroken, everyday I would return to the wall hopeful. After months of pushing, pounding and trying many different places on the wall for a weak spot, a fear filled my heart and soul because I knew if I was unable to get through the wall I wouldn't be able to save Todd. This motivated me and helped me to press on, even though I was worn down, weakened, and so tired from the months of fighting the bricks only to return the next day to see them mortared back into the wall. One day I was able to knock a big hole in the wall, and although it wasn't big enough for me to climb in and pull him out, I was able to see him and talk to him and tell him I loved him. I left that day full of joy and happiness knowing the next morning I would return to wedge the rest of the bricks out and finally be able to reach Todd. When I returned the next morning all of the bricks had been placed back in the wall, except for one. When I looked through the opening I saw Todd sitting there. I got so angry that I began beating on the wall with every ounce of energy I had in my exhausted body, but as hard as I tried I just couldn't get one brick to budge. In my anger and desperation I cried out to him, "Why aren't you helping me!?!" As I looked through the tiny opening I saw him there with tears running down his face. He said to me, almost in a whisper, "I can't...I'm too tired to keep fighting." He too had been fighting, just as hard, on the other side of the wall, trying to get back to us and to his life. Just as the wall had prevented me from saving him, it had also prevented him from saving himself. The wall that had been put up between my big brother and myself is called depression. The sealant that made the bricks impossible to unwedge was alcohol. Together they formed a fatal mix that has left a 13-year-old daughter fatherless, a mother and father without their firstborn son, a sister who is now "an only child," and a grandmother without her only grandson.

"When Someone Takes His Own Life"
by Norman Vincent Peale

In many ways, this seems the most tragic form of death. Certainly it can
entail more shock and grief for those who are left behind than any other.

And often the stigma of suicide is what rests most heavily on those left
behind.....And my heart goes out to those who are left behind, because I know that
they suffer terribly. Children in particular are left under a cloud of
differentness all the more terrifying because it can never be fully explained or
lifted.

The immediate family of the victim is left wide open to tidal waves of guilt.
"What did I fail to do that I should have done? What did I do that was
wrong?" To such grieving persons I can only say, "Lift up your heads and your
hearts. Surely you did your best."

And surely the loved one who is gone did his best, for as long as he could.
Remember, now that his battles and torments are over. Do not judge him, and do
not presume to fathom the mind of God where one of His children is concerned."

A few years ago, when a young man died by his own hand, a service for him was
conducted by his pastor, the Reverend Weston Stevens. What he said that day
expresses far more eloquently than I can, the message that I'm trying to
convey. Here are some of his words:

"Our friend died on his own battlefield. He was killed in action fighting a
civil war. He fought against adversaries that were as real to him as his casket
is real to us. They were powerful adversaries. They took toll of his energies
and endurance. They exhausted the last vestiges of his courage and his
strength. At last these adversaries overwhelmed him. And it appeared that he had
lost the war. But did he? I see a host of victories that he has won! For one
thing, he has won our admiration, because even if he lost the war, we give him
credit for his bravery on the battlefield.

And we give him credit for the courage and pride and hope that he used as his
weapons as long as he could. We shall remember not his death, but his daily
victories gained through his kindness and thoughtfulness, through his love for
family and friends, for animals and books and music, for all things beautiful,
lovely and honorable.

We shall remember not his last day of defeat, but we shall remember the many
days that he was victorious over overwhelming odds. We shall remember not the
years we thought he had left, but the intensity with which he lived the years
that he had.

Only God knows what this child of His suffered in the silent skirmishes that
took place in his soul. But our consolation is that God does know, and
understands"

I Am Alive

I am alive.

I may have lost my brother, my sister, my parent, my child, my spouse, my friend...

But I am a survivor of the long, dark night,

Of unspeakable loss,

The unbearable pain of my own darkness,

And...I am alive.

I am unwilling to stand idly by

And allow shame to defeat love

Or silence to defeat action.

I stand for enlightenment of a society

That would hide from suicide,

That would avoid, that would pretend...

And I am alive.

I am unwilling for my perseverance

To be in vain,

Unwilling for the passing of my loved one

To be in shame.

I loved them more than I loved myself,

And their life will have meaning

In my action.

I am resolved,

And I am alive.

In a world blinded by the pursuit of pleasure,

I am here to say

That people are in pain.

In a world of rushing to get ahead,

I am here to say

That people are being left behind.

In a world obsessed with the value of the market,

I am here to speak

For the value of life,

And I am alive.

This will be no quiet fight,

For I am a voice of audacity

In the face of apathy.

I am the spirit of bravery

In a word of action.

I am a commitment to action

In the face of neutrality.

I am out of the darkness

I am into the light.

And I...

I am alive.

~ This speech was given by Jeff Schuck at the opening and closing ceremonies during the Out of The Darkness walk for suicide prevention and awareness in Washington D.C. August 17 & 18, 2002. ~

If you have any comments, suggestions, or questions, please email them to me at:

                                        lorrileigh34@wmconnect.com