In memoriam: Jeremy Osmond-Bailey.

Jeremy, you seemed so happy this year. You felt better than you had felt in a long time, and you said that. You had so much life left to live, and you were living it. You had so many people helping you- whether you knew it or not. They were there for you, they wanted you to succeed. You may have made some mistakes, but who hasn't? Life isn't about being perfect, it's about making mistakes and learning from them to make yourself better for the next time around. I know you thought that you would just be forgotten, unimportant, and that life would go on as if nothing had happened. But you were wrong. Life may go on, but it's different now. There's a piece of the puzzle missing now. You will not be forgotten. Who could possibly think to forget you? You impacted more people in more ways than you think. Even those who barely knew you feel it. And none of us will have the answers as to why. What changed so quickly to make you decide to take your own life? That question will haunt too many of us. 

People say there are 5 stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. If this is the case, I felt them all at once this morning. In rapid succession the stages of grief hit my like a tidal wave. My ears didn't want to believe what they were being told- this couldn't have happened, it just didn't make sense, he was happier. And then, just as quickly as I denied the truth, I was angry. So angry. I wanted to scream about how selfish he was for doing it. That he was an idiot, how could he leave all of his friends and family behind like that? Then, I immediately thought that if I just fell back asleep, I'd wake up and it wouldn't have happened. Everything would be back to how it should be- he'd still be here. But that wasn't going to happen. And that hit me harder than the news itself did. It was real. It actually happened, and that couldn't be changed. It happened and that was that.

But none of that makes accepting such a sudden death any easier. None of that makes suicide make sense. None of us will understand why it happened. None of us will ever be able to make sense of it. He didn't want to talk to us anymore. He was gone before his life was even over, the decision already made. Nothing any of us said would have made any difference, and we can't blame ourselves for that.

It's never a joyous occasion to lose someone. Especially someone who suffered so much in silence that they felt taking their own life was the only way out. But we have to find a way to build off of this. Let this draw us closer, and not take for granted the relationship we had with him, and the ones we have with others. To keep living, to honor him by fighting the good fight, that's the best way to remember him.