Enjoying Life

Ernest Hemingway died when I was in high school.  I remember that he committed suicide.  It was the first time, I think, that I ever heard the word "suicide."  I remember discussing his reasons.  One that I still meditate on is that he lost the ability to write.  Maybe, he lost the ability to do what he usually did.  But he did have more physical  and mental problems than people should have, so I think he could have used help dealing with those.  I don't think he was the type to ask for help.

I still think of his suicide, now and then.  My feelings of abhorrence haven't changed since I've been fourteen.  I still think suicide is ultimate selfishness.  The victim is only thinking of themselves, otherwise, why would they deliberately hurt those who loved them most?  The people left behind are devastated.

Before suicide, I hope people go for counseling.  I have a friend whose boyfriend committed suicide forty years ago.  She still wonders why.  She thought they would have a promising life together.  Another family grieves because their loved one, like Hemingway, believed he had lost his ability
 and killed himself.

.Maybe victims of suicide get too caught up in what they can't do, i.e., write, walk, etc., instead of enjoying what they can.  In other words, one can still enjoy sunrises and sunsets, laughter, music, the feel of the sun, create stories in your head--intangible beauty.

As we age, we won't be able to do what we used to do, anyway.  We cope as best as we can.  I don't jog anymore, I walk.  I can't play softball, I watch.  I don't teach, I play.  There comes a time when we all can't do what we used to do; it's now time to just enjoy and not do.

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