The Shortcut

A buddy of mine killed himself the other night. I only really knew him during our awkward early teen years, but we hung out a lot during that time. He was the other little skinny white kid named after a place in the UK, which is a demographic that most other kids do not fit into.

He was the first guy that I ever really shared the gospel with, and he was very curious about it. I bestowed upon him much of my Sunday School knowledge and led him in the prayer for salvation. We were both in speech and debate as well, always performing comedy monologues. He was very good at it, which was not a common characteristic. For awhile, our school had a group that would go to Dallas to make a low budget television show for fun. He and I acted in addition to working cameras. It was called Nerd-O-Rama, and I remember being jealous of the fact that he had real headgear for his braces. I requested them from my dentist, but was told that they do not make headgear for the type of braces that I wore.

I had hardly thought of him for years, but then I had rarely thought of that time in my life for years. It was our shared awkward phase, and I naturally do not try to remember such phases. But to think that one of the few other smart, well-spoken, and funny guys that I knew growing up would take his own life seems crazy. But then again, I have dipped into depression and recognize how real those thoughts can get.

In fact, this news had me reeling back into that mode of thinking to some extent. I see life passing me by every day, and it seems as if I will never escape from this medical school purgatory. I cannot afford (financially, logistically, and in other ways) to attend a good friend's wedding in California in a few weeks. It would be a wonderful reunion with fun and dancing on the beach. Instead, I study alone and learn tragic news with only a Bible and a bottle to comfort in the midst of it. For whatever reason, I have an extra helping of serotonin sloshing around in my brain, so even in the midst of depressed mood, I only seem capable of being beaten down so much.

I do not often feel things, except in pivotal points of action movies, but my eyes grew misty a number of times after learning the news of my friend's passing. The very fortunate thing here is that there is no one of whose eternal salvation I am more confident. I am glad you found rest, Briton. The rest of us are going to try to take the longer route home.