I live by a military base. I'm close enough that I can hear it when they play the Star Spangled Banner at 5:00pm (if I happen to be home). I'm also close enough that I can hear it when they play Taps at night.
And I heard it last night.
It was kind of eerie, kind of tear-jerking, especially considering that I had learned the night before that another Moho had taken his life. And this was someone that I somewhat knew. Well, I suppose it might be more fitting to say that I knew of him. As soon as his name was mentioned, I could see a picture of his face. I could remember things that I had read on his blog. And I was shocked.
It pains me so much to know that he suffered in this way, so that he felt ending his life was the only hopeful option. I was there once. I stood on that ledge many nights, and many times a day. I looked down into the abyss that was chewing on my soul and tearfully pondered if it would just be easier to let go, to give up, and to end the fight. I know how that feels. And I wouldn't wish it upon anyone.
So I stood, outside, listening to Taps. I shivered. I thought of Grant. I thought of Todd. I thought of Stuart. I thought of Kevin and Kareen and Ryan. I thought of the countless lives and names that I do not know, people who were here and who mattered, but who have chosen to leave this world in the same way that Grant did.
I wish there was some way to make lives continue instead of anguish, and sorrow to end...instead of lives.
Peace be with you, my brother.