On September 11, 2002 most of the nation mourned the one-year anniversary of the Terrorist attacks. By noon, most of the nationally recognized moments-of-silence had past and all that was left was the daily coverage. Nothing could have prepared me for the news that was forthcoming as an emergency staff meeting at work was called at noon.

Only a few staff members knew what the meeting was for. A brief glance at their face, brought an eerie silence to the room. Nearly everyone was accounted for except for a few people. Most of them were in the field and few had taken the day off.

As I looked at my watch the time was 12:10 and the second hand was at 45 seconds. The vice-president of our company walked in and told us that another tradgedy had happened. Immediate thoughts of a bomb going off or another plane crashing to a skyscraper filled my mind. The thought of lives lost passed in my head but was quickly overwhelmed by the mental imagery of the newscasts that I thought I would be watching during dinner. I thought I was prepared to hear the news, but I wasn’t.

The announcement was brief and simple, Jeff Tomlinson, a co-worker and good friend of mine had committed suicide the night before. In the silence, the only words I could reach and exclaim were, "What the fuck???" Heads briefly turned and glanced at me. I looked around as those of us, closest to Jeff, bowed our heads in disbelief and to cover the tears that were forming in our eyes. My mind went blank!

I don’t really recall anything until the next time I looked at my watch, the time was 1:45 and 23 seconds. Over an hour and a half had passed but I can recall nothing. We were all out back sitting in complete silence. The heat of the sun beat down on us while the winds gusted to nearly 20 mph. It seemed as if all of the lost souls were letting us know they were there, including Jeff.

As I sat there, I tried to comprehend what had happened. I looked for Jeff’s car and kept telling myself it was a bad dream. Every time I tried to accept it, denial set in. A part of my mind reassured me that Jeff would be pulling up any minute to pull out a pack Camel Lights for a post-lunch ritual he and I regularly enjoyed yet despised. We were going quit because we knew that an extra couple of years at the end of our lives would make all the difference for those we loved. But he never showed up and reality started to set in as I stood on the metal stairs and lit up a cigarette. Around 3 p.m., a smaller group of us were gathered and given additional details on his death. We were informed that a six page suicide note was left and that he had committed suicide by jumping into the path of a train. For the first time that afternoon, a single tear ran down my face. I hid my feelings because I wanted to look strong even though I knew I was weak inside. I left work shortly after because I knew I wouldn’t be able to work for the rest of the day.

When I arrived home, I scoured the internet for any reliable story that may have revealed where it had happened and I wanted to know everything. I was still in disbelief! The obituaries had nothing. As I glanced through the articles, I was suddenly stricken with numbness, I had located an article about a young man that had been hit by a train. Witnesses had reported that they had watched this man apparently walk into the path of the train. My heart dropped. As I continued to gain further details, things didn’t click and I soon found out that this apparent suicide was not my friend. I was kind of relieved yet at the same time I wanted proof. I eventually came across a short article, which revealed that a body had been found on a local set of railroad tracks. I knew it was Jeff’s, but I still couldn’t except it. It was all a bad dream, someone was going to wake me up and the nightmare would be over.

It wasn’t a dream! That is what I finally realized when I passed his office the next day and no lights were on. I paused at his door and then turned on the light. His plants needed to be watered so I took the bottle and fed them. There was a eerie silence and chill to the air, I quickly left and returned to the comfort of my own office.

I again tried to fathom what had happened, tried to determine how must desperation he must have felt in the day or weeks before he killed himself. I even tried to put myself in his situation and began to think about all the people I would leave behind and how they would react, but I couldn’t get find the answer to my question of why he did it. At times I blamed myself, thinking "what if I had called him that night?" or "what if I had noticed the signs?" but I knew all the "what if…" scenarios wouldn’t bring him back. I started to understand and except the fact that no one could ever understand what had been going on in his mind because he had hidden it so well.

Acceptance of what Jeff had done did not come easy. I was asked to be a pallbearer at his funeral and I accepted it with great honor. It was my way to repay my friend for all the advice he had given and the times he had brought a smile to my face.

Carrying the casket into the church that day felt surreal, I was numb with feeling until I looked at the closed casket and realized I was carrying my friend to his final mass. The weight on my arm suddenly lightened up as if he was right there helping me as he often did. I watched as the priest doused his coffin with holy water and incense. I listened as a mother and father gave their final words to a lost son and I finally cried for a lost friend.

Although I would never know why he did it; and although I would never see him again and hear his chuckle, I knew my friend was happy and in a better place. I finally accepted his death, but I don’t think I’ll ever accept the loss of a great friend. Time will pass and lives will continue, but the memories he left with us will last forever.

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