i remember ... for another reason

okay so today has been hard for me. first, while observing a moment of silence in theory, and later while singing moses hogan's "hear my prayer" in chorale, i cried. and not because im some super-patriotic american. yes, i feel deep sorrow for those that we lost, and i still get chills when i really think about what happened five years ago, but that's not why i cried. i never really got a change to grieve for the thousands that died, and for the tragedy that struck our nation. rather, i grieve for what happened on september 12, 2001.

on that day, a close friend of mine decided to end his life.

his name was doug straw, and although i only got to see him in person just once, he still touched my heart. even now, it hurts to think about all of it. some people dont really understand how i could've felt so close to him if i only got to meet him once. doug was my mentor. when i was a budding artist at the age of thirteen, my dad started to tell me about one of his co-workers. he would tell me stories upon stories of doug, and how amazing he was. doug and my dad were very good friends, and my dad knew about how doug really loved art; especially fantasy art. i loved fantasy art. my dad then suggested that i show doug some of my stuff. it was just crappy little watercolors and sketches. i looked back on some of the drawings a little bit ago, and they're pretty bad ... cute, but still very juvenille. doug really looked over them and critiqued my sketches like they were masterpeices. i still remember, when i got my sketchbook back, there was a note tucked inside. doug had wrote a little letter to me, telling me that he liked what he saw and to keep up with it. "very peaceful," i remember him saying. after that, doug gave peices to my dad to bring home and show me, and fantasy art books for me to look at and study. one of the drawings that was inspired from one of the books was a hauntingly beautiful figure standing upright with the top of her body slumped over and her hands tangled up in her hair. i titled it greif. what an awful bit of foreshadowing. i remember so much about the day i found out about doug. i was in the basement, playing some video game, and my dad came downstairs and i knew something was wrong from how he was acting. he could barely spit the words out before he burst into tears. i have only seen my dad cry on two occasions - when his father died, and when doug killed himself. my dad held me and i held my dad and we sobbed for what seemed like hours. i couldnt believe it. my dad later told me that doug had planned it out to most minute detail. he had paid off his credit cards and bills and had left his apartment clean. he even went as far as to organize everything and lay it out on his bed. this wasn't spontaneous, it was meticulously planned. and as if my dad didnt have enough guilt to deal with, doug's family blamed my dad because he didn't help doug or stop him. it wasn't that he didn't help ... he just couldn't help. his family requested that my dad not come to the funeral. i still haven't been able to visit the cemetary, and i think my dad has only been there once. i keep a picture of doug and my dad in a frame in my room. i keep the letter doug wrote in a little box in my closet. im still not through mourning.

as many negative things came from doug's suicide, there has always been one positive. if anything has really really kept me from killing myself, it's that. i dont think i could ever put the people that i love through that, especially my dad.

today, i remember those who were lost to america. and tomorrow, i remember the one who was lost to depression.

i love you doug, and im sorry that i couldn't help you.
thank you for helping me.