Fleeting Connections
Watching this video felt very satisfying. The only thing that could be improved is if the cookie looked like a real one. Maybe not quite the fortune cookie look given the need for the screen and other functions, but like an Oreo perhaps. It had been a hard day and seeing this was much needed relief.
A young man I know, about the same age as J, had taken his life only a couple of days after we met at a happy hour. We sat across a low table along with a dozen other people, and he was seated across from me most of the evening. I learned a bit about his background and he shared recommendations for what to see in town, since I was going to be there for the weekend. He came across as pleasant and quiet but easy to talk to.
Time after time that evening, I replayed that scene at the table, trying to remember the other threads of conversation around us. A couple of folks were chatting about apartment rentals and commuting distance from work. He mentioned he lived about twenty minutes away — convenient but nothing special. A woman at the far end had a funny story about her dog's recent vet visit. At our end we only caught scraps of it, but could tell it was hilarious.
I could not recall what time he left or who else left with him. It was an unremarkable event. Some of us went to dinner after. He wasn't with us — most who couldn't join had previous commitments, and that might have been true for him as well. And then just like that, a few days later, he was gone.
I could not help wondering if something random could have averted that moment. A bawling baby that would not quit, an incessant knock on the door, a neighbor who stopped him on his way home and wouldn't stop chatting, a car that got a flat tire a few miles out. Just anything like that, and that moment might have passed.
A young man I know, about the same age as J, had taken his life only a couple of days after we met at a happy hour. We sat across a low table along with a dozen other people, and he was seated across from me most of the evening. I learned a bit about his background and he shared recommendations for what to see in town, since I was going to be there for the weekend. He came across as pleasant and quiet but easy to talk to.
Time after time that evening, I replayed that scene at the table, trying to remember the other threads of conversation around us. A couple of folks were chatting about apartment rentals and commuting distance from work. He mentioned he lived about twenty minutes away — convenient but nothing special. A woman at the far end had a funny story about her dog's recent vet visit. At our end we only caught scraps of it, but could tell it was hilarious.
I could not recall what time he left or who else left with him. It was an unremarkable event. Some of us went to dinner after. He wasn't with us — most who couldn't join had previous commitments, and that might have been true for him as well. And then just like that, a few days later, he was gone.
I could not help wondering if something random could have averted that moment. A bawling baby that would not quit, an incessant knock on the door, a neighbor who stopped him on his way home and wouldn't stop chatting, a car that got a flat tire a few miles out. Just anything like that, and that moment might have passed.
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Reflections