Making Sense of it.

Today is definitely a day of trying to make sense of it all.  Today is the day where a couple of hundred friends and family said goodbye to a 40 year old man who took his own life; a man who even in his suicide note to his family was able to make jokes in his explanation.  'If I were a Muslim there'd be virgins waiting for me, a Christian then all I need to do is crack a joke at the pearly gates, a Buddhist, well I'll be back in a minute anyway.'

I first met this man when he a two other builders were working outside the flat next door.  I took them all a cup of tea out and chatted with them for 15 minutes or so.  Some months later we found ourselves at the party of a mutual friend and spent the night joking about random acts of kindness being taken the wrong way; 'and then he had the audacity to make me a cup of tea, who does he think he is'.

Later that summer we both fancied a pint on the way home from our respective jobs and in a scene reminiscent of the comedian Mickey Flanagans 'out but not out out' routine this post work pint turned into an all-nighter.  We discussed a mutual love of Rugby, of travel, his love of wildlife and the outdoors and adrenalin sports and surfing.  For a couple of years we spent a lot of time together;parties, sport watching in the pub, the summer of 2005 and England's Ashes win, trips to watch London Irish, hikes in the Dorset countryside and a weekly meeting up with a few mates for semi-organised games of touch rugby.

He always struck me as a man who despite his constant and quick witted humour and obvious success with women, as someone who was constantly searching; a dreamer of the best type who would back up words with actions.  The last time I saw him was a couple of years ago when we bumped into each other cycling in opposite directions in the Dorset village of Gussage St Giles.  This unexpected event inevitably led to a few beers in the local pub where he told me he'd been dog sledding in the Arctic and he'd got his dream job as a trainee game warden in Africa and he was off in a couple of weeks.  That was the last time I saw him.

I heard he was back in the country and left voicemails and texts asking him to get in touch for a catch up.  But, as most of his friends would also find, he seemed to want to forge a new life away from those friends, some who'd known him as teenagers.  The last I heard of him was a phone call with the sad news he'd killed himself.

Today was his funeral; today was the day that his friends and family gathered to say goodbye to him, today was the day that many 30 and 40 something year old friends and workmates are trying to make sense of it all.