Too many names on the wall of memories

I said goodbye to my friend last week.
Like other memorial services I have been to (there have been far too many), it was somber with the occasional outburst of laughter as good times are recalled, only to be replaced by the reality of the moment.
His wife and children were there; keeping a stoic front, but of course on the inside the pain of his loss was marching through their hearts.
It is sad when anyone you care about dies. But it is even harder when that person is young. My friend was only 51 years old.
Far too young to be taken from this earth. Far too valuable a person to be swept away by the merciless scourge of cancer.
My great-grandmother had a saying, “Old people die when they are old, but young people can die any time.”
She was in advanced stages of dementia when I knew her and would, on occasion, talk to the closet, but during her lucid moments she expressed the wisdom only nine decades of living can provide.
I was a kid back then (and to tell you the truth she used to scare the hell out of me), so her words made little sense at the time, but as I aged I came to understand and appreciate what she meant.
Young people are not supposed to die. A friend of mine from 'back in the day' was not supposed to die of a brain tumour at 28 years old.
Wesley was not supposed to die in an ice fishing accident when we were in Grade 11. That is simply too darn young no matter how you look at it.
I had known him since Grade 1 and he was the first friend I had ever lost. Too many names are etched on the solemn wall of memories in my mind.
Friends, relatives, school mates have all had their names put on that dark, cold reminder they are no longer here.
Death is so final, so complete. When someone moves away, you can still stay in touch with them. You can call them, email them, look them up on FaceBook, or even send them an old-fashioned letter.
They are physically gone, but they are still there, still within reach.
Death steals that from you. Death does not allow any further contact. In its greed, Death wants tto take everything for itself, there is no sharing with the living, no hope of seeing them on this earth again. That greed takes away all future memories you may have had with a loved one.
All that is left are memories of the past. Those recordings of the heart and mind that allows you to relive those relationships. You can lose yourself in those wonderful memories. If only for a little while, you can be reunited with a loved one.
But even then, deep down you know eventually, you will have to return to reality and again feel the sting of loss.
There is nothing special about my mourning. Millions of people mourn the loss of a loved one every second of every day.
Accidents, disease, war and the most horrific of all – suicide – claim loved ones constantly.
Some of us are on this earth longer than others. Even if they do not seem worthy of a long life, death will come for them only when the time is right – no sooner, no later.
But before death, there is life and that is where the magic lies. Life is where you create those memories for, and with your loved ones.
Life is where you can share a laugh with a long-time friend; where you can go camping with your family in the rain, but still have fun; life is the simple things like going for a hike, or helping your son work on his car.
Memories can be created every day. They don't all have to be grand adventures like a tropical vacation or trip to the Alps. Simple things can create memories that last a lifetime.

Copyright 2015, Darren Handschuh

A sad week, but also an interesting one

I can say one thing about the past week, it has been interesting.
Often, one day blurs into the next as we trudge through our daily routines without giving life and what it has to offer much thought.
You get up, you to to work, you come home, you go to sleep, you get up, you go to work...
It's like being on a treadmill without the benefit of burning calories and losing weight.
Some people live more rambunctious lives where they are always going somewhere and doing something, but for the majority of us, life boils down to routine with the occasional break known as a vacation.
This is where we leave our big home to rent little homes in places we don't live in an effort to put the daily grind on hold for a couple weeks and get refreshed and recharged.
Sometimes we even bring little, portable homes with us to live in as we explore other parts of the world. Other times, we rent those little homes and who doesn't like staying at a hotel where you don't have to make your own bed, tidy up or even cook?
But this past week, the usual murmuring of my weekly routine was thrown into a tailspin by two events: one I had no control over, but the other was by my own hand.
The first was the memorial service for my mother in law. A much-loved member of our family, the service brought siblings, friends and family members from far and wide to pay their respects. My usually quiet home became the gathering point for many of the out-of-towners. It was good to see them and it definitely broke with routine.
The other event that changed my week was my column on depression that was published last Sunday.
The admission I struggle with mental health issues has put me in touch with a lot of people who walk a similar path.
It is a dark path and at times a very dangerous path, but what can be perceived as a lonely, desolate trail winding its way through the dark forest of an unsettled mind, is actually full of people all looking for the same thing: peace and freedom.
Many people relayed stories of their own struggles with depression and a couple even said I may have saved lives by writing what I did. I don't know about that, and never even thought of it in those terms. I just felt the time was right to bring the darkness into the light.
Many called it brave, but to be honest with you I never saw myself as being brave for writing about it.
I just wanted people to know they are not alone in their struggles, that help is available and that the narrow path is actually a six-lane super highway crammed with people walking the same walk.
It is not a case of misery loves company, but strength in numbers.
I have been encouraged, buoyed and, I must admit, a little relived to find so many kindred spirits out there.
It was interesting to hear from friends and co-workers who had no idea of the near incapacitating pain that accompanies me on so many occasions. I guess I really did hide it well.
I wonder how many other people suffer in silence. How many others are out there think they are alone. How any others are sitting silently, isolated by the darkness.
The issues of mental health were brought to the forefront by the suicide of actor Robin Williams earlier this month.
But it won't be long before the fervor calms down as the next topic of the day grabs the public interest and the focus on mental health will fade. But hopefully, out of the tragedy of his death can come the victory of awareness and healing.
Talking about it will break down the stigma surrounding mental health issues, and hopefully it will show people they are not the only ones and help is at hand.

Copywrite 2014 Darren handschuh