Words Are the Most Powerful Things We Have
Yesterday evening I was driving to the store for some grocery shopping when I passed the dog park where I usually take the dummies four or five days a week. It was about 5PM and the weather was supposed to turn for the worse so the parking lot didn't have much in the way of occupants. However, down by the creek, along the wood line, were a handful of police cruisers, their lights flashing red and blue in an area that can go years without seeing artificial light.
I counted four cruisers as I passed by.
For the remainder of the evening and then this morning I wondered what had brought so many police out to the dog park. Usually the rangers are called only if there's a confrontation or blood is spilled either by a dog or a person and almost never in the fifteen years I've been taking my dogs to the park has there been more than one or two rangers responding. Last evening there were four or five, county sheriffs, not rangers.
I thought perhaps there was a fight between people (who isn't passionate about their dogs?) or maybe a dog bit a person or, the rare event, a dog fight that ended in a dead dog.
This morning I took my dogs to the dog park, hoping to get some exercise in before the snow fell too hard. I asked the attendant if he knew what had happened the night before and he said yes, he was on duty. Apparently, a park "regular" came to the area and committed suicide. He drove, parked and walked down to the wood line and ended his life across the creek. The man told his family what his intentions were and they called the rangers who spotted his car, but were unable to arrive before the man completed his task.
As a park "regular" I have to wonder if I knew this man. Did I know him in passing? Did we exchange courtesies? Were we location-based friends? Did I know his dogs?
While these thoughts swam around my head the attendant at the booth said he was the last person to speak to the man before he committed suicide.
And then I thought, that's such a burden to bear. To be the last person someone speaks to before they knowingly take their own life. Obviously he didn't know, but knowing after the fact that your words could have changed the man's mind about suicide? Had he been nicer or asked him how his day was? Had he just used the right word at the right time to sway the man from his ending? Or, on the other side of it, what if your words pushed someone on the ledge, over? The attendant told me his last words to the man were, "If you're coming this weekend, make sure you bring your snow shoes."
What if the last words you ever hear are that tomorrow is going to be miserable? (Granted, not everyone finds the snow miserable, but still...) Especially if you're on the cusp of deciding to kill yourself?
Imagine everyone you talk to on a daily basis: the bank teller, the cashier, your co-worker, family, S.O., mail-person or even that annoying customer service rep at the cable company. Imagine if any of them were borderline suicidal, or homicidal. Imagine what your words could to to send that person over the edge or bring them down from the brink? Imagine what a nice word or two could mean to a complete stranger.
I counted four cruisers as I passed by.
For the remainder of the evening and then this morning I wondered what had brought so many police out to the dog park. Usually the rangers are called only if there's a confrontation or blood is spilled either by a dog or a person and almost never in the fifteen years I've been taking my dogs to the park has there been more than one or two rangers responding. Last evening there were four or five, county sheriffs, not rangers.
I thought perhaps there was a fight between people (who isn't passionate about their dogs?) or maybe a dog bit a person or, the rare event, a dog fight that ended in a dead dog.
This morning I took my dogs to the dog park, hoping to get some exercise in before the snow fell too hard. I asked the attendant if he knew what had happened the night before and he said yes, he was on duty. Apparently, a park "regular" came to the area and committed suicide. He drove, parked and walked down to the wood line and ended his life across the creek. The man told his family what his intentions were and they called the rangers who spotted his car, but were unable to arrive before the man completed his task.
As a park "regular" I have to wonder if I knew this man. Did I know him in passing? Did we exchange courtesies? Were we location-based friends? Did I know his dogs?
While these thoughts swam around my head the attendant at the booth said he was the last person to speak to the man before he committed suicide.
And then I thought, that's such a burden to bear. To be the last person someone speaks to before they knowingly take their own life. Obviously he didn't know, but knowing after the fact that your words could have changed the man's mind about suicide? Had he been nicer or asked him how his day was? Had he just used the right word at the right time to sway the man from his ending? Or, on the other side of it, what if your words pushed someone on the ledge, over? The attendant told me his last words to the man were, "If you're coming this weekend, make sure you bring your snow shoes."
What if the last words you ever hear are that tomorrow is going to be miserable? (Granted, not everyone finds the snow miserable, but still...) Especially if you're on the cusp of deciding to kill yourself?
Imagine everyone you talk to on a daily basis: the bank teller, the cashier, your co-worker, family, S.O., mail-person or even that annoying customer service rep at the cable company. Imagine if any of them were borderline suicidal, or homicidal. Imagine what your words could to to send that person over the edge or bring them down from the brink? Imagine what a nice word or two could mean to a complete stranger.
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