Depression sucks

This week I found out a man at church passed away. I got a couple of emails on it because of various groups I belong to, but they were quite vague, saying only that he passed away suddenly, and to please keep his family in your prayers. The man, Frank, was 63 years old, so not especially young (sorry, dad!!), but seemed healthy. He worked at church as the adult ministry director, taught baptism classes (so I went through them for both Max and Ava), taught part of Abby's First Communion classes, and helped run our Family Program at church, which the kids and I have gone to for the past two years. I was quite surprised and saddened to hear the news that he passed away.

Then tonight, I was even more shocked. I was scheduled to read at church, and when I got there, there were different readings--the readings from Frank's funeral mass. It was strange, but not overly out of the question. Then I asked the guy who was reading with me if he heard what had happened to Frank, how he died. And then I got the shock. He had committed suicide. I truly don't know any details, but the priest confirmed the suicide and talked about church teaching on suicide during the sermon (clearly violates 5th Commandment of no killing, but also clearly not in his right mind. We can't possibly know or judge). To say I am stunned is an understatement. He was seriously the happiest, friendliest, help you out in any sort of way I can kind of person, and I'm not sure how to feel. Sad, angry, shocked, guilty, all of the above? To get to be 63 and then feel that's the only way out, I can't imagine what he had to be hiding day in and day out. To be so involved in church, and still feel you can do that. It's horrible to say, but I'm really just relieved that, while I knew him and have had interactions with him (he's a contact in my email address book!), we were no closer than that. I can go back to regular life with some thoughts of him but not overly debilitating. But his family, wife of 42 years, children, grandchildren, his church co-workers. I can't even imagine what they must be feeling. All of what I am, plus 200 other feelings, times a thousand.

It's also strange how you think about these things in terms of your children. The first thing that was hard was that Abby actually paid attention during the sermon, so we had to have the conversation of what suicide is, and why someone would want to kill himself. How do you explain that? I really have no idea myself so how do you explain it to a seven-year-old? But then I think about my kids growing up, and how this parenting thing is a little like playing roulette. I mean, I can't really guarantee that my own children won't grow up depressed, and I can't protect them from everything. I breath a sigh of relief everytime the pass a stage--I don't have to worry about SIDS anymore. Three out of four are safe from most choking hazards. Any major undiagnosed illness they would have had at birth is highly unlikely at this time. But events like this just make me realize how long the worrying could go on. Forever, I suppose.