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COPYRIGHT 2005 U.S. Navy Safety Center
It is interesting how words seem two-dimensional, not given the benefit of experience. Simply knowing the definition is not enough. It is only with the benefit of experience, or sharing of experiences, that the words take on a third dimension, which allows true understanding. Perhaps with no other word is there greater truth to this analogy than with the word "suicide."
My family and I were gathered in the room of a hotel, hundreds of miles from our respective homes. Questions, reflective comments, memories, and silence...most of all, I remember the silence; it seemed to make a sound. We had all gathered in preparation for a memorial service for Vincent, who, at the age of 39, had died as the result of his own deliberate actions. A master sergeant in the Marine Corps, Vincent was an individual with varied interests and many talents. He was one of the finest people I ever have known--he also was my brother.
The call had come early one morning; my brother had died, supposedly of a heart attack. I was on travel in Denver, Colo., and caught the first flight back to the East Coast. The trip was filled with predictable reflections, mostly those of younger years--of four boys growing up in a small town in southern Pennsylvania with their parents. Vincent was my oldest brother, seven years my senior, someone I liked, someone I always had admired.
After a brief period at home, the long drive followed to the city where the memorial service was to be held. It wasn't until we arrived and had a chance to talk with other...
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