I often wonder, “Was Andrew ever happy?”
“How could he have hidden a suffering so deep that made him take his life?” I ask myself.
I remember his smiles, his laughter, his appetite, his love for my cooking, for his motorbike Loki, for his family, and more.
I remember his wicked sense of humor, his amazing mimicking abilities and his insightful observations.
I remember a lot of mundane, every day things.
Yes Andrew was an introvert and a deep thinker. True, he never was a “run-of-the-mill child,” on the contrary, he challenged and questioned everything. He didn’t do things to please others, not even himself, unless they squared up with his inner metric.
I look back over the years when Andrew was with us, and I can also see that there were times when Andrew was quiet, or upset over some thing or other, but mostly I remember happy times together, and I ask myself how could he have smiled and laughed so much, if he had so much pain inside?
And then last night it hit me. I saw myself smiling, even laughing in the past few months, writing this blog, working to promote emotional wellness, yet inside I am suffering!
I can indeed laugh about something. I derive satisfaction from my philanthropy work, but the broken parts inside me are still broken.
And that, I think, is how it must have been for Andrew. I am glad that at least I have figured something out.
I am still recovering from last week’s mini break-down, my anxiety level is still a bit high and I get tired more easily. I am tired now, but the sun is shining and the birds’ cheerful chirping is a pleasure to listen to.
I’ll spend some time listening to them.
Take care everyone,