A friend of mine died unexpectedly last year, but it wasn’t an accident or bad health. Following a painful business failure, my friend took his own life.
Because this wasn’t a friend who was in my life every single day, I’ve gone on with my life and his memory doesn’t come up frequently anymore. Two things have happened in the last couple of days to make me think of him.
First, I happened to mention his death to someone a couple of nights ago, someone who I’d introduced him to several years ago. She hadn’t had any more contact with him since that one time, but it was still upsetting to her to hear that he had killed himself.
Second, I was going through the address book on my computer Tuesday morning when I came upon his name and old contact information. It was like an odd digital ghost in black and white as I stared at his name. I thought I should delete the card, but I didn’t.
So what do these reactions suggest about our attitudes toward death and suicide? I’m not entirely sure, but I have an idea. When the names or circumstances of people who have died come up, we tend to think that our feelings are about them — remembering who they are and what they meant to us. I’m not so sure that’s usually the case. I suspect our reactions have more to do with the way we feel about our own lives.

Each loss makes me feel grateful for the irreplaceable ones I love
No matter how admired you are, your work won’t make you special
Once you taste what is possible, you can’t accept being ‘normal’
Biases teach us what to expect, but we often turn out to be wrong
Idiotic idea of the year: Turn email over to the U.S. Postal Service
This mortal life swings between lonely misery and loving paradise
Will better marketing make you love state-controlled medical industry?
Being disconnected from love as close to hell as we’ll find on Earth