Up on the parapet

I recently read about a man who, after saving his wife's life when she fell off a waterfall, was devastated when she died in her sleep some six months later. However, rather than do anything rash, he recalled a conversation that he had with her after seeing Romeo and Juliet, where his wife asked him "Do you think Romeo would have still killed himself if he'd waited 1,000 days?"

Mark waited. But he didn't just wait at home. He explored the world, he blogged, he took photos, he went out to see if there was anything out there that would keep him here and, ultimately, there wasn't. After 1,000 days Mark Rife killed himself.

What has puzzled me, in many ways, has been the most frequently observed reaction to this. Almost every time I see this story, I see some mumbles down the bottom along the lines of 'talk to someone' or 'ask for help'. Of course, yes, I believe that this is the best course for anyone who is contemplating suicide, but what else did you want this guy to do?

Sometimes people say "Well, he thought about it, he didn't act in haste and he didn't physically hurt anyone else." and that sits much better with me.

He was a pastor, a man of faith. He saved his wife, at great personal risk, and was in brief possession of a miracle, until she died in her sleep and then, and we are probably going to have assume that this was in relatively good faith, he searched the world for a reason to stay.

Who else should he have talked to? Who else should he have asked for help? The story of Job has always sat poorly with me, for many reasons, atheism notwithstanding. Your life is destroyed by forces that you can neither control nor understand, why do you expect anything else from a man who has been devastated by loss?

Ultimately, we are all in brief possession of miracles. Whether it's our lives, our partners, our children, our friends, our pets, our favourite jacket - whatever it is, everything must pass. If Mark Rife had been terminally ill, in constant physical pain, I suspect that more people would have seen euthanasia as an acceptable alternative that probably accepted his 'insane' suicide when he was otherwise healthy.

There is no doubt that Mark was in pain. A terrible, awful, gnawing pain that was made worse by the fact that he had been so close to it before and then reprieved. A crueller twist of the universal knife would be hard to find, in many ways.

I cannot imagine such pain, although I think I can see the shape of it, and I hope that I never have to bear it. But, of course, it's coming. Either for me or because of me - everything must pass. We talk of things getting better and people moving on and all sorts of good things that we say because sometimes they're true. For most suicidal people, I strongly believe that the pain is temporary or at least the unbearable intensity of the all-consuming pain is temporary. No-one who picks up a knife one night should use it on themselves immediately. Maybe it will get better. If you feel bad now, well, maybe you should be giving it a 1,000 days.

Maybe you're already on the count down. I hope that you find something good. A sense of shared understanding. Some contact with the world, if you can bear it. Even waiting for the new flowers of Spring because you'll know that they'll be back, every year. But, whatever I say, you make the decision. Just don't make anyone else complicit, don't use it to guilt someone and don't hurt anyone physically on the way out. Someone is going to miss you, so there's going to be hurt - but only you can decide if that's enough to keep fighting. When you're in pain, that decision gets harder. Take at least 1,000 days to decide.

For any suicidal people reading this, I actually hope that you've got a chemical imbalance in your head, because we might be able to fix that up - better living through chemistry - and you can see that the pain can be managed. Yes, it numbs and it slows the world, but it can make it liveable, if a little dull. Running and walking are surprisingly effective drugs that are readily available and free, if you don't like the idea of taking stuff.

Some of you, I'm so sorry, are completely sane and it is as bad as you think it is. But, please, give it at least that 1,000 days. But give it a good shot. Travel, meet people, talk, let yourself laugh if you can. If you spend 1,000 days sitting inside on the couch, you haven't given it 1,000 days. Now you have to give me 10,000 and this time, I want to see some parties and walking on the beach.

If Mark had recorded 1,000 days and then lived, it would have seemed too Hallmark. As it is, he gave desperate people the world over a pathway where most of them will live. If you can hold on for 1,000 days, then you know you have Mark's option at the end. I hope, I really, really hope, that everyone can find at least one blue-sky day in 1,000 that makes them want the 1,001th. If you find yourself, one day, losing count or forgetting to count, stop counting. You're living, please keep doing it.

Is there something good for us all? Sometimes the pain may just be too great - it's so scary to admit it but it is probably true that we really all do have a threshold for survival. If we don't recognise that, then we make maniacs of everyone who has left rather than suffer anymore. Yes, crazy people kill themselves, but not everyone who kills his or herself is crazy.

If you can't imagine that the pain could get so great, then, please, don't tell people that they shouldn't be committing suicide, because you don't know what you're talking about - you're handing out sugar water to the infected and calling it medicine. Give support out of love and empathy, and listen, and help, and be there, but don't tell people that it's not so bad - they're either seeing it that way, and that takes a long time to deal with, or it is that way, and you can't change reality. Get them to properly trained, competent professionals where you can. I feel a fraction of what some of the really depressed and in-pain people feel and the weight of that black burden is so heavy sometimes that it takes two people to lift it. And I have that second pair of hands, always with me, always lifting. Imagine having that taken away.

I believe that Mark did all that he could. He waited. He talked. He looked. He listened. He collected himself, made sure that he wouldn't physically affect anyone else and then he left. I wish, so much, that he had found something. I love a schmaltzy Hallmark ending which gives you that cottonwool feeling of contentment. But he didn't. He was lost and empty, but I believe that he was sane.

And that's the nasty surprise at the bottom of the cereal box. Sometimes, because bad things have happened, sane people don't want to live anymore and they commit suicide. You won't be able to help them, they just can't stay anymore. Do I want you to stop helping? HELL, NO! Most suicidal people are nuttier than fruitcakes - don't let those crazy people kill themselves! But I think it's important to recognise that the act of self-termination is, on occasion, valid.

They say that, up on the parapet or before you jump, suicide makes sense. I've also heard that many jumpers realise, after they've gone, that their major problem is the fact that they've just jumped off a bridge. I can only hope that, as consciousness faded, Mark Rife went to oblivion happy with his final decision, and at peace with everything that he did.

In Adelaide, as I write this, it is Spring. The flowers are out, the birds are back and the sky is clearing up for a good day tomorrow. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.