Dear Mr. Walker,
A week ago, I didn't know your name. I suppose I really had no need. Our paths probably never crossed. But then, you made the local media, you made social media. You had a captive audience of onlookers from downtown buildings. You see, last Wednesday morning, your story broke through, and on Thursday your name was revealed. You died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound in your Ford F-150 atop a parking deck in downtown Birmingham. And then, Mr. Walker, I read your obituary. I saw your picture. You were a handsome, 41 (almost 42) year old man. You were involved with your church, were educated. You loved your dogs, your horse, you enjoyed pasta, and you were an Auburn football fan. You were, perhaps, every man.
The news stories told that you had been fired from your job and left notes and your wedding band at the office before you left, before you returned the next morning, and, in an instant, you were gone. People speculated about your marriage, your finances, your job, and those little girls you left behind. It was all so public, yet exposed the humanity of the situation.
Here's my confession: I saw your story, Mr. Walker, and I was captivated. I wanted to know about you. I wondered what the real truth is. There's a song lyric that says "That suicide is painless, It brings on many changes. And I can take or leave it if I please."
But is it really painless? Perhaps. For you, indeed, the pain has ended, and I believe that your soul is free from all the pain of Earth, from all the stress and pain, guilt, anguish, fear and responsibilities of life. And trust me, I get it. I don't even blame you for doing what you did.
You see, Mr. Walker, I've been at the dark recesses of anxiety and depression. I've experienced desperation, but I lack the courage to end my life. I wonder what those final few hours were like for you. I wonder what you thought as you pulled the trigger. I wonder if there was a moment of pain and then instant peace. I wonder, IS suicide truly painless? The truth is, we will never know. Perhaps for you, it is painless. But for your family, how sad they must be. I never knew you, but in the last week, Mr. Walker, I've thought about you so much. I even contemplated going to your graveside service, but I decided that should be for those who knew you in life. I want you to know, (if I may be so bold as to call you by name), Todd, you didn't die in vain. Your death touched me to the core. My prayer is that your soul is at rest. My prayer is that your loved ones will find the peace they need. Thank you for touching my soul in your death. Rest in Peace, Todd.
