Thoughts on Life and Death

I found out last night that a classmate from my year in China took her life. Five months ago another classmate from my high school graduating class did the same. It is difficult to find words in such situations. First one is shocked, on autopilot, hungry for any and all details, as though more facts could offer some sort of answer as to why their desperation mounted to such a horrific state. Then a phase of disbelief, while incomprehension sets in. Then sorrow and compassion, for both those that they left behind, and the women themselves in their last moments.

I have wondered repeatedly: What were their last thoughts? Were they even thinking, or was the pain so enormous that it muted the voices in their heads and only action remained? How long they must have felt their sorrow, to forget the shining moments of joy and love, to forget that everything will pass in its own time. And what pressure were they feeling that made them feel so hopeless, so trapped?
And then what must their parents be going through, their partners, their close friends? How do they speak with one another after hearing the news? How do they comprehend the reality of their loss?

Both were brilliant.
Emma I met when I was just a toddler. I have a video of her in a striped dress at my 3rd birthday, but didn't reunite until we found ourselves in the same class in 9th grade. This past fall she was finishing a book she had been working on collaboratively with a friend. It was based on a year of traveling the country, filled with interviews of various women about their takes on modern feminism. I remember that she wore dark red lipstick and fishnet stockings in high school. She was in an anti-smoking commercial and shared a cigarette with the director during a production break. She spent a year in India in college. She was passionate and clever, overflowing with life, and still decided to end it in Venice where she was doing an internship at the Guggenheim.
Amy I did not know as well. We spent 11th grade exploring China in the same group of 60 students, all trying to define ourselves while immersing in a starkly different culture. I remember her as inseparable from her friends, sarcastic, and a highly dedicated student. In newsletters I was impressed but not surprised to learn that she was pursuing a PhD in Neuroscience.

Looking at both these groups I may have wondered who would be the first to go, but if I did it was only as a fleeting thought, a possibility to put off for the far future. I certainly did not think it would be under these circumstances.

I hope that their family and friends continue to find joy in their own lives, that they find a way to use their grief to propel themselves to live fully, pause, breathe, and feel gratitude for their own abilities to experience every moment.

It is incredible to me how far-reaching each individual's influence really is. Neither of these women played any significant role in my life for the past 6 years, we did not put forth any effort to keep in touch, and still I have cried for them, and feel their loss tremendously. My thoughts have often turned to Emma, and surely will turn to Amy frequently also. This impact reminds me of how fragile we all are, how breakable -even, and perhaps especially, those of us who appear strongest. It is incredibly humbling, and a great inspiration also to give as much compassion as one is capable of giving, as we all experience moments of desperation.
I am grateful to both Emma and Amy for jolting me into a great appreciation of my own life, and that I have the capability to find what makes me happy and leave situations that don't. I am further inspired to listen and stay present with every being that presents themselves in my life, in the slight chance that perhaps loving attention can influence them in some positive way. While some things cannot be changed, perhaps by increasing these things within ourselves we can help others heal, even just momentarily.

May these two be remembered for their passion, their sense of adventure, their dedication, and their strengths, and may we remember as often as possible to be grateful for the little things, for they have the potential to be the biggest of all.

Namaste