Sunday, April 1, 2007
Perspective and great sadness
April 1st should be focused on silliness but, instead, for me there is confusion and sadness.
A friend has been murdered. Violently, with a shotgun, by her husband, who also burned their house down and killed himself as well. It feels surreal, like a bad movie being filmed in my head. One newspaper says some think it was a murder-suicide pact but that's not possible, not this way.
My friend was a strong, intelligent, capable woman who had risen from clerical positions to become a manager of global technology at a major corporate bank. She also adored handcrafts which is how I met her, at a local knitting shop, about two years ago, before she became ill with cancer. She would hang out and delight in new wool, new techniques, new friends. Helpful, curious, learning new techniques, always smiling, always encouraging, always enjoying things and people.
She'd completed chemotherapy and radiation seven months ago, had gained weight and looked fantastic. She'd been knitting again and had just bought a fancy spinning wheel. (Do spinners commit suicide??!) She was commuting a few days a week to the office. She was one of the most upbeat people I've ever known.
Which is why another friend and I feel certain she would never have agreed to ending her life like this. We think something must have happened to make her husband snap, feel that he had no other recourse in that outward-aggression way that men seem sometimes to think is a good way to solve things.
As recently as a few weeks ago, our friend talked about retiring early so as to knit, weave and garden. Even if the cancer had returned and was untreatable - or she was unwilling to be treated - we feel sure she would have done whatever she had to do until the end. Furthermore, she was vocally religious and such violence is not a good spiritual way to end this life. It is inconceivable to us that she would have agreed to something as horribly gruesome and violent as a gunshot suicide pact. And yes I realize that people often are different in private than how we know them. But this is not a kind way to leave. Nor is it kind to leave so much for everyone to deal with and try to understand. She was too giving, kind, funny, sweet, strong, spiritual and lovely to have willingly participated in this.
And she would not have left her family and friends without saying good-bye to us, and letting us say farewell to her, gently.
A friend has been murdered. Violently, with a shotgun, by her husband, who also burned their house down and killed himself as well. It feels surreal, like a bad movie being filmed in my head. One newspaper says some think it was a murder-suicide pact but that's not possible, not this way.
My friend was a strong, intelligent, capable woman who had risen from clerical positions to become a manager of global technology at a major corporate bank. She also adored handcrafts which is how I met her, at a local knitting shop, about two years ago, before she became ill with cancer. She would hang out and delight in new wool, new techniques, new friends. Helpful, curious, learning new techniques, always smiling, always encouraging, always enjoying things and people.
She'd completed chemotherapy and radiation seven months ago, had gained weight and looked fantastic. She'd been knitting again and had just bought a fancy spinning wheel. (Do spinners commit suicide??!) She was commuting a few days a week to the office. She was one of the most upbeat people I've ever known.
Which is why another friend and I feel certain she would never have agreed to ending her life like this. We think something must have happened to make her husband snap, feel that he had no other recourse in that outward-aggression way that men seem sometimes to think is a good way to solve things.
As recently as a few weeks ago, our friend talked about retiring early so as to knit, weave and garden. Even if the cancer had returned and was untreatable - or she was unwilling to be treated - we feel sure she would have done whatever she had to do until the end. Furthermore, she was vocally religious and such violence is not a good spiritual way to end this life. It is inconceivable to us that she would have agreed to something as horribly gruesome and violent as a gunshot suicide pact. And yes I realize that people often are different in private than how we know them. But this is not a kind way to leave. Nor is it kind to leave so much for everyone to deal with and try to understand. She was too giving, kind, funny, sweet, strong, spiritual and lovely to have willingly participated in this.
And she would not have left her family and friends without saying good-bye to us, and letting us say farewell to her, gently.
Labels: farewells, people, reflections
Permalink | 
| posted by jau at 11:05 AM
— at 12:38 PM, April 01, 2007:
jau — at 12:43 PM, April 01, 2007:
DADvocate — at 10:19 AM, April 02, 2007:
| posted by jau at 11:05 AM
6 more:
— at 12:38 PM, April 01, 2007:
I've logged in to comment but really there's nothing I can say, what happened is tragic and useless. Being an optimistic type, I can barely understand someone committing suicide, severe illness, deep depression for instance, but to kill someone else and burn the house down? I guess insane about covers it as well as anything.
All very sad.
All very sad.
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jau — at 12:43 PM, April 01, 2007:
Thank you both so much for your understsanding and kind thoughts.
Ligneus, you remind me of something my mother said. Someone we knew had committed suicide and as I tried to make sense of it, my mother looked startled and said, "But there are daisies!"
Ligneus, you remind me of something my mother said. Someone we knew had committed suicide and as I tried to make sense of it, my mother looked startled and said, "But there are daisies!"
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DADvocate — at 10:19 AM, April 02, 2007:
My thoughts and prayers are with you and your friend. I could never fathom such actions either. I've seen how horribly suicide effects those left behind. The suicide/murder, and not knowing why, makes it much worse.
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Laura
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