Yesterday started off like any other day in southern California in May.  The marine layer was hanging over looking gloomy.  Jeff left for work and called to tell me there were a lot of police cars, a firetruck and an ambulance at the end of our street near the entrance to the hiking trails.  We thought perhaps someone had fallen while hiking. 

I left for my morning walk and as I turned the corner I saw the gathering.  There were quite a few police surrounding a small blue car. One officer spoke to the landscapers while the prepared firefighters stood helpless on the side of the road.

The chill in the air seemed to sink deeper into my bones upon this sight.  A neighbor stood there watching and I asked what was happening. He explained that he had gone to the car to see if everything was OK as the engine was running. Unfortunately, he viewed something he most likely will never forget, the gentleman inside was dead.  As he started to share his thoughts on the situation, all I could think was…

“How could this happen when people live so close?”

I walked home numb and called our neighbor who is a detective. I asked if he could find out what had happened. We live in a nice part of Anaheim; a small gated community where the condos of 1100 sq. ft. cost a half million or more. People are generally happy here because it’s beautiful, expensive, but beautiful and the neighbors are generally very friendly.

But, how do we know what happens behind closed doors?

After a bit, our neighbor sent a text to say he had spoken with one of the officers. They confirmed that it was a person who lived in our complex. He had cancer and while he sat alone in his little blue car, parked at the end of our street, he took his life.

There were so many questions as I stood there frozen. How could this happen when people live so close? But the thing that made my heart just ache was that he sat in that little blue car, alone.

There is an End of Life Option Act in California.  Why couldn’t that have been his option?  Was it pain, or depression or confusion that drove him to his decision?

I thought of the suicide of a close friend of my daughter. And I had just recently heard about the suicide of a 30 year old, the nephew of a friend.

Could a call or a text or a card make a difference?  Could checking in on someone, keep the darkness away? I don’t know who the gentleman was, if he had a family or what his diagnosis might have been.

What I do know is how the ripple effect of what happened has affected a total stranger – me –

We donate monthly to the Patriotic Service Dog Foundation that provides Vets with service dogs. Those who are suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) or Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI).  This organization is working on taking the suicide rate of 22 vets a day down to 0.

By helping out an organization or something as simple as checking in with a neighbor or a friend, could we could help drop the suicide rate by one, then two, then many?

To the troubled soul in the little blue car, you will never be forgotten…

Grateful for you,

Sheree