Dark vs. Light

Today, darkness engulfed me.

While walking through a hall on campus, I saw a colleague hiding her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks behind the back of her hand. She was attempting to talk on the phone, but all that came out were cries of desperation and sobs of deep pain. I wanted to reach out to her, comfort her, but I felt awkward as we were merely acquaintances. After skulking off, my conscience finally won, and I found the courage to turn around and check on her. I gave a sad attempt at hugging her, but it was useless, because she quickly gestured her desire to be alone. I couldn't help. Only minutes earlier I had discussed her work with her and she was fine. Now, she felt a wrenching pain--the kind that came from the bottom of your gut and ripped holes in your soul. But I couldn't help.

Later I found out she had received horrible news: her cousin had committed suicide.

I thought of the one person I had known to commit suicide. It was the father of two of my dance students. Memories of him began running through my mind. I can so clearly remember him sitting in the lounge of the dance studio. He was always so kind. I don't think I ever knew his name, but he knew mine, and he always made it a point to ask me about my life when I took the girls out for a mid-class trip to the drinking fountain. He seemed to enjoy the updates I gave him, and he was the only father who ever associated with me. I really liked him. I knew he and his wife were divorced, and I'm sure there were valid reasons why that was so, but I liked his ex-wife as well. His daughters were some of my favorite students.

I can remember the day I found out what he'd done. I noticed he'd stopped coming in to pick up the girls, as he always had in the evenings. I guess I'd assumed the family's schedule changed, and he switched to dropping them off, or something of the like. One of the other dance teachers made reference to how well the girls were both doing, and how glad everyone was to have them back in classes. When I obviously didn't understand what my colleague was talking about, she explained. I felt sick for days. He shot himself in the front yard just before his girls left his house. They were there. A fifteen and eight year old. Present. Saw it. Heard it. Sickening. I felt nauseous for days, and I didn't even know him all that well. So what if he had his problems. How selfish can you be? I get down. I think poorly about myself. I have rough spouts--like today, for example. Today I've thought very negative thoughts. Does that mean I can give up?

My mother's friend committed herself to a hospital's psych ward this summer. She said she needed some peace and quiet and a good night's sleep.

I wish I were stronger. I wish I never doubted. I wish I could be more. But I know my weaknesses act as teachers, which cause me to grow and learn and become better than anything I otherwise could have become. I hurt, oh I hurt so deeply. I don't think I've been completely whole for some time now. Often, I pretend: to be O.K., to care, to smile. But my life is also full of joy and learning and love. I have a testimony of the healing and enabling powers of the savior. I desire perfect happiness and exaltation through him. Yet, I understand this life isn't meant for happily ever afters. It is for ups and downs, that is what makes us grow, what makes us fulfill the potential the Lord sees in us. I am so blessed. I am so grateful--even for the trials, and I know I can't give up. I don't want to give up, because tomorrow will be better. And today is good. The gospel brings me peace and joy and light. It is the source of happiness. It is love. And God answers prayers.

The words in this video hit me as though they were the words of my Heavenly Father, speaking the thoughts of a parent to a child on his knee. Thank you, Father. Thank you for everything.



Sorry. I feel as though that were very depressing. Believe me when I say I have a good life. I'm just down about my co-worker's cousin, and the sadness this life brings each and every one of us.