by Dilip D’Souza
Allow a columnist his anguish, because what follows is almost all I have been able to think about for several days now.
Years ago, a college mate jumped into a well.
Well, in truth that’s a little bit of an exaggeration. He and I knew each other because we were partners on some lab assignments in some early electronics course. But we were not really close friends. But then he jumped into that well, and for a long time afterward, he was on my mind far more than any of my much closer college buddies were.
Because, of course, that day he took his own life. He left an entire college campus simply devastated. Through my years on that campus, we had a few suicides – but for some reason, it was what this particular young man did that stayed on in my mind. I remember lying awake nights, sitting through lectures, nursing cups of coffee … agonizing over him through all that, through everything in my daily routine.
Had he been thinking of taking his life the last time we had met, in the lab? If so, were there signs I might have, could have, should have, picked up on? If so, what if I had just asked, quietly, “Wanna talk?” What were his thoughts in those moments before he jumped? Did he survive for any length of time? If so, what was he thinking, lying there alive at the bottom of the well?
Questions, questions. None came with any answers, of course. But for weeks that turned to months, I couldn’t stop asking them.
I realize I’m not saying anything particularly novel here. I know suicides leave us all with questions and extended bouts of agonizing. But several years later, another suicide got me thinking in different directions. Read more »
