Just this Thursday I sat on a E.R. cubicle, watching over my grandpa and I couldn't help but reflect. I saw and heard so much pain, on him, on his next door neighbours, on the people in the waiting room. As my grandfather was asleep, I could listen to someone besides him moaning and crying from the pain. His wife was telling the doctor that he was over 90, had fallen down on his face and since then, he had speech impairment. I had saw him outside, when they've got to the hospital. He had half of his face swollen up, with cuts and bruises, and he couldn't open his eye or close his mouth.
And I heard him, trying to speak, babbling words, crying out loud. He was constantly expressing how much pain he had. Without seeing him in that moment, I could tell he felt miserable.
After that, I laid my eyes on my grandfather. He's physically half of the person he ever was, so skinny, bald, weak. He was in fetal position, sleeping, trying to remain alive. For the past two years he's been fighting a very aggressive cancer that has resulted in several metastasis, including brain and bones. And the funny thing is that if he is aware of his life, if he manages to be here today, he will tell you he's fine. He'll tell you he's gonna live 10 more years. But the effects are horrid, and most of the times he's not himself. There, he says he's tired. He says he's had enough. He wants to rest.
But people try to hold on to life in such a way, that is marvelous and intriguing for me. I sat there, asking myself and God, why even if people are absolutely miserable physically or mentally or both, they fight to stay. They want to be better, so they can keep living life. Because life is the only certainty we've got.
And I thought about myself. I thought about all of us who've been close to death somehow, for choice or not. I thought about how your perception of death changes so much when you are, or have been suicidal. In a way is like, as you've been on death's hands or it has been on yours (depends on how you choose to look at it), you've lost fear. In a way, death is the only way out you can conceive in the toughest moments, so it becomes your friend. In a way.
Two things I found funny on this reflection: First, that it's hard to fear again death. To see death as almost everyone else does. You become so naturalized with it that it isn't a feared option. But for you. There comes my second point. The option is valid for you, not so much for others. Because the one that chooses to put an end in their pain, is you. But watching others in pain, is horrible. You ask yourself, if you were in their position what would you do? Of course, first thing that comes to mind: End the pain. But you don't see your loved one doing so, and you hope that they rest in a way in which you don't have to deal with their suicide. You hope it's a natural death, because it's less painful, less heartbreaking, it makes you feel less guilty and wonder less about what you did or could have done.
And I found that, absolutely hysterical. Is finding yourself, as an active suicidal person, repelling suicide in others than you. Which, for me, proves the fact that we actually, truly and really, don't want to die. We are just tired and wish for pain to stop. But suicide, even if we can think about it daily, isn't the rational and pure desire of wanting to die. God, how I wish we could all understand this in an easier way, how I wish this was more popular than the opinion of suicide being a rational decision, a choice, a selfish choice. I couldn't help but ache for those who are gone by suicide. They just wanted pain to stop, they just wanted to feel better, they didn't want to die. Because we all, don't want to die. We want to live a good life.
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