Shifting

About eight months ago, something shifted in G. It should have been a shift up, a shift into ease and action. But it wasnt. He had just gotten a new job after several scary months of unemployment and an ugly and wrongful accusation. And this after a five year battle with a horrid life trauma induced by a person who should have been his help-meet.

There were some serious mountains that G climbed and conquered over the last five years. And eight months ago, should have been a fresh peak. But it was not.

For some reason, he was plain worn down. Oh, he kept putting up a brave front. So brave, but so tender and thought filled that much of the time he and we bought into it. Sometimes we all must fake it until we make it. At times, we all believed it would get better.

G suffered from PTSD, depression, anxiety, and other physical medical issues. All of it was controled by meds and moreso by methods. G had tools he used every day. They worked.

So why is it that now he is dead? Wasnt there *someone* worth living for? It wasnt his faithful dog. I was not his dozens of friends. It wasnt the couples who saw him through his worst moments. Nor was it a priest or other professional. It was not me or my family. The one secret G knew he could keep to himself was his escape plan. All the rest was up for grabs by those who loved him.

I saw what was going on months ago. I knew it in my gut and in my heart. But I did not know it in my brain, and that was the place that needed to know if something was going to be done. G knew this, I think. He would not ask for help. He was optimistic on the outside and that optimism, most of the time, kept him moving on the inside.

DH said, "How sad that he had no passion for life." But DH is wrong. It is exactly that passion for life that drives some of us to leave it. Life is hard. Painful. Intense. Sometimes it wears us down and unless we have a really good reason to stay, we just want a break. I have really good reasons to stay. I wish that G had. Admittedly, he had just boosted the people closest to him into independence. He watched carefully to make sure we could all do it without him. He knew when it would be ok.

And the truth is that we are ok. But... I miss him terribly. I feel sad and despairing knowing that he despaired. I knew he despaired, but I kept hoping, believing, that he would experience ease in his new job and new life. I also know that he could not bear to be alone in that new life, and he wished for a companion. He was a good man. She would have been a lucky woman.

I continue to pray for his soul. He is a saint. I know he made himself right with God before dying. But I can still pray.