When I Hear That Song

Last night, after reading The Suicide Index, I thought about all of the suicides in my life. 

On my morning dog walk I ran into Kevin, the retired cop, a former police detective, doing traffic duty. I told him about the book, and we began to share stories about suicides of people we've known. I told the story of tracking down the obituary of my high school boyfriend (years later) and I started to choke up, telling the story for the millionth time . . ."He jumped off the roof of the Children's Museum, where his father and brother worked. It was Christmas Eve."

He told me about saving a man who jumped, saving him by a thread. "I grabbed his hand just as he jumped. He almost took me with him, but other officers grabbed me."

He said he had seen hundreds of suicides during 25 years on the job. "Many people jump off the bridges in RI but it's not publicized."
"My friend Judy did that," I said.

He continued. "With one guy a song was playing on repeat in the apartment when we found him hanging," he said. "I still see his face when I hear that song."