Just another day?

Today is a Monday, a day that everyone dreads.  It is also the 28th day of October.  Nothing particularly bad about that, except for me it is a day of mourning.  Seventeen years ago on this date, I awoke to some terrible (but not very surprising) news.  A dear person had taken his life in the night hours between 27 and 28 October 1996.  This was his third attempt, and he made doubly sure that there would be no interruptions this time.

Christopher Charles Vale.  A regal, proper British name.  A Staff Sergeant in the Royal British Army, and extremely proud of that fact.  Wife, two beautiful children and numerous friends and family who loved him.  None of that, however, could sustain him at the end.  He chose to leave the world that caused him too much pain to endure.  And now, for the past 17 years I have approached this day with dread, knowing that the pain would hit me again - knocking the breath out of me all over.  I knew that he was suicidal, of course.  When a military member attempts suicide, the Services don't just sweep it under the carpet.  No, Chris went into a "hospital" for a few weeks after the first attempt.  I remember that he was horribly offended that "they" took the belt from his robe, and any other potentially harmful items.

I tried to convince Chris that life was worth living.  His wife tried -- all of his friends who were involved at the time tried.  But no one really understood a simple fact:  you CANNOT "convince" someone who is suicidal that there is a reason to live.  Only within the person himself (or herself) can that be found.  And so, every 28th of October, I mourn the loss of a wonderful man, an elegant (although bawdy!) soul, a fantastic cook and loving friend.  I also celebrate his life every 8th of June (his birthday) and every year around mid-February (when I met him).

I often wonder -- will there ever come a day that I stop marking the passage of time "FROM" the events of my past?