As my grandmother always said, and probably yours too, there's plenty of time to sleep in the cemetery. This was her way of saying, "Get out of bed you lazy so-and-so and do something with your life!" I remember that whenever I hear that someone has committed suicide, which by the way is now a politically incorrect thing to say. You have to say they "died by suicide," since saying "committed" implies a crime, which is not nice. Whatever -- they're dead, they did it, and that's that.
This is on my mind because of yesterday's sensational news that the insanely successful fashion designer Kate Spade took her own life at the age of 55. Found dead in her Park Avenue apartment by a housekeeper, she left behind a note for her only child, a 13-year old daughter: "Bea, I have always loved you! This is not your fault--ask Daddy!" How nice. So not only does Bea no longer have a mommy, she has a very bad daddy.
What is wrong with people? How can someone hurt themselves as well as the people they love and who love them, and in many cases rely on them for support, both emotional and financial? No matter how you slice it, it's at bottom an act of supreme rudeness, selfishness and self-absorption, of such magnitude that it almost makes you not feel sorry for the person.
"But Andrea," you're thinking, "they must have been in such terrible pain!" Okay, exactly how much pain? Enough to rob your only child of a halfway decent life? Sure, I've been down -- way, way down -- far down enough to have incredibly detailed and disturbing suicidal thoughts trample all over my muddled and befuddled brain. But I'm still here, mostly because A, I can't even remove a splinter from my pinky much less inflict pain on myself and B, I have a son. (Every study on the subject shows that parental suicide results in a greater risk for suicide attempts in offspring. Besides, watching him live his life and hoping all goes well for him is fun for me.)
And then there's C: Life is good and bad. There are upswings and downturns. One day it's rainy, the next day it's sunny. You get cancer, and a hellish year later you're cured. You get the point. Suicide can't be undone, and anything permanent that you can't undo is a bad idea, which explains why God made divorce lawyers, moving vans and laser tattoo removal. Admit it, Kate had it all: Looks, personality, money, business success, a family. Now she's got nothing because she is nothing. I bet if we could get her back today and ask if she still wants to go through with it, she'd say no.
This is on my mind because of yesterday's sensational news that the insanely successful fashion designer Kate Spade took her own life at the age of 55. Found dead in her Park Avenue apartment by a housekeeper, she left behind a note for her only child, a 13-year old daughter: "Bea, I have always loved you! This is not your fault--ask Daddy!" How nice. So not only does Bea no longer have a mommy, she has a very bad daddy.
What is wrong with people? How can someone hurt themselves as well as the people they love and who love them, and in many cases rely on them for support, both emotional and financial? No matter how you slice it, it's at bottom an act of supreme rudeness, selfishness and self-absorption, of such magnitude that it almost makes you not feel sorry for the person."But Andrea," you're thinking, "they must have been in such terrible pain!" Okay, exactly how much pain? Enough to rob your only child of a halfway decent life? Sure, I've been down -- way, way down -- far down enough to have incredibly detailed and disturbing suicidal thoughts trample all over my muddled and befuddled brain. But I'm still here, mostly because A, I can't even remove a splinter from my pinky much less inflict pain on myself and B, I have a son. (Every study on the subject shows that parental suicide results in a greater risk for suicide attempts in offspring. Besides, watching him live his life and hoping all goes well for him is fun for me.)
And then there's C: Life is good and bad. There are upswings and downturns. One day it's rainy, the next day it's sunny. You get cancer, and a hellish year later you're cured. You get the point. Suicide can't be undone, and anything permanent that you can't undo is a bad idea, which explains why God made divorce lawyers, moving vans and laser tattoo removal. Admit it, Kate had it all: Looks, personality, money, business success, a family. Now she's got nothing because she is nothing. I bet if we could get her back today and ask if she still wants to go through with it, she'd say no.
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