to jump, or not to jump?

Yesterday someone jumped to his death from a 10-story window in my building. There are still many unanswered questions about who it was and why it took place, but nevertheless, it is a very disturbing event so close to home.

I first heard about it from my roommate when I came home last night. Her son is visiting from North Carolina, and he found himself comforting a woman in the parking lot next to our building after she had witnessed the event. I later found out that my neighbor and good friend TH encountered a man crying in the elevator. Being ever compassionate she asked if she could help. He then managed between sobs to inform her that he was afraid his son was dead having fallen from a window. Her medical training kicked in and she ran to the parking lot alley hoping to help. I’m sure she didn’t realize that the fall was from a 10-story window and hope was far away. Despite her many years of hospital work, and her previous encounters with death, the scene was a complete shock and an image she will live with forever.

In the midst of all of the pain and sadness, I find myself asking how a person gets to a point where the only question is to be, or not to be? I know there are no answers, or rather many answers, but no more questions, at least for the young man who died, but I will keep asking questions because somehow it seems to be a sign of those who wish to live.