Hurt and Angry

Reader beware. This is going to be a different kind of post.


The problem with the internet is that it can put you face to face with the worst kind of ignorance. And the scary part is that it is being blasted all over cyberspace, reproducing ignorance everywhere it goes.


This morning I was assaulted by a rant on FaceBook (posted anonymously) encouraging Emma's friends to "just get over her" and objecting to any effort to memorialize her at her high school. The writer's logic was that Emma had made a choice, a bad choice, and she didn't deserve to be honored.


I've chosen not to write about Emma's death for two reasons. First, and most importantly, I believe that the way that Emma lived is what is important, not the way that she died. The memories of the times we shared together is what anchors Emma in our hearts. I think the FaceBook ranter missed the point. Emma isn't being remembered and honored because of how she died; she's being remembered and honored for how she lived.


The second reason I've chosen not to write about her death is that I don't understand it. I can't shed any real light on it. I'm not sure there is anyone who can - no scientists, no theologians. We have puzzle pieces here and there, but the picture is far from complete.


But I will make this one assertion; Emma's death was not a choice, at least not a rational choice. This was a child who would lose sleep for an entire week because she was worried about getting a shot at an upcoming doctor visit. Even when she was 16, I held her hands when she had to get a shot. Knowing how hard it was for her to endure even that minor physical pain, I cannot even imagine the intensity of emotional pain she must have experienced to have been driven to end her physical life. In her right mind that idea would have terrified her. She was not in her right mind.


I don't know what it is about suicide that makes people need to condemn, blame and stigmatize those affected. It's discouraging. I'll admit that one of my motivations for sharing my memories of Emma in this blog was that I wanted to humanize suicide. It was my hope, and still is, that people would read about the beautiful spirit we lost to this scourge and would want to do something about it.  That we wouldn't get over it, we would get on with it - on with the difficult, but very important task of building awareness, researching the causes, and developing new treatments for mental illness and effective interventions for suicide.


And there's one last thought I'd like to share. In a paradoxical way, I think Emma's premature death has taught all of us who are moved by her about the sanctity of life. We realize, in our moments of clarity, that we can't take life for granted, not our own, not others; and we appreciate our lives and the lives of those we love as gifts to be treasured and shared.


And that, my anonymous FaceBook friend, is why Emma's memory should be honored - because every life: yours, mine, Emma's, is precious and should be celebrated.