Nick was so vivacious, and full of life. He had the biggest heart of anyone I've ever met. He wouldn't hesitate to help anyone who needed it. We worked together as vet nurses for 2 years - I think I could count on one hand the number of times I had seen him mad or angry. And even then, I wouldn't need every digit. He was a prankster, and a cheeky shit, but he was never mean or hurtful to anyone.
I can't even imagine how much pain he was in, in order to feel like that was his only option. And he was so loved, and beloved (the church full to bursting was evidence of that). He has two daughters that meant the absolute world to him - there is no chance he would have left them if he felt like he had a better choice.
Yesterday I drove down to the funeral. I got about 20 minutes into a 90 minute drive before I realised - I wasn't going to see him again. I knew I was going to say goodbye, but it hit me that I would never see his face again. That, physically, all he would be was a body in a box. That was hard.
Arriving at the church - it was heartwarming, and heartbreaking, to see the turnout of people who had come to say goodbye to this gentle giant. It was nice to see people I used to work with, who I haven't seen in a few years, although such horrific circumstances to bring us together. Walking into the chapel, and seeing the coffin - it didn't look big enough. He was larger than life - how on earth was he reduced to fitting into this small space? He was such a presence - I mean, he was 6 foot tall, and not a small guy, but he also just filled a room with his personality.
There was a slide show playing - these photos of happy Nick. It was so hard to associate those pictures with what was happening. How could it be possible that we were here for this reason?
His mum spoke - I can not imagine the pain of outliving your children. Whenever I have been really low and down, my Dad is the only thing that gets me through. I could not do that to him. I know that there are others in my life who love me, but I could not bear the thought of my Dad going through that. He doesn't realise that he has literally saved my life...
The vets from the clinic (where we met and worked together) got up to speak. The owner of the clinic - he has been a vet for 40 years, he is a stoic guy, and I have never seen him upset by anything. He gave this amazing tribute - reminding everyone of the kind of person Nick
Nick, if only you had realised how much everyone loved you, would it have helped? If you realised how much pain and heartbreak you would cause, would it have made a difference?
And the hardest was yet to come - when family and friends were to carry Nick out of the chapel. When it hit you, and you realised that this was it. He really was gone, and he wasn't coming back. That this is all that remained of someone who meant so much to so many. A box.
We then gathered together - shared our shock and our memories. Tried to figure out how everyone would be able to move past this shock and grief. The questions, the guilt, the confusion. Suicide makes people feel like they weren't adequate, that they didn't do enough, that maybe if they had been more, that if only Nick had reached out and asked for help, that we wouldn't be here saying goodbye.
I went out to the cemetery for a final goodbye - the spot chosen for him is quite beautiful. It is up high, with lovely views of trees and the surrounding hills. It is peaceful, and he will be able to rest there. The sun came out.
I hadn't been in regular touch with Nick for a wee bit. Life gets busy, we lived in different cities. We chatted every now and then on Facebook and kept in contact, but we had both been a bit slack. It is easy to take for granted that people will always be there. Until you realise that that is not the case. Nick and I will never again have a beer, or tell inappropriate jokes, laugh over ridiculous things, share a loaf of sourdough...
He must have been in a lot of pain. I can not imagine this is a choice that he made easily. It wasn't like Nick to give up, and he was not a selfish person at all. I only hope that he can rest easy now, and that he is in peace.
And somehow, the rest of us, will have to learn how to go on without him being around...