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Add to FavoritesSuicide. The very word is a taboo in itself. It's a topic that no one really likes to talk about or discuss, which is probably why it happens quite so often. It has been called the ultimate aggressive act. It is regarded as a sin in many religious teachings. Most of all, it is the end of a life.
What many people don't understand is while suicide is chosen, the majority of the time it is a spontaneous and sudden act. It's when pain exceeds the resources for coping with pain, when someone feels that they are coping with too much and cannot bear the weight any longer. Suicide is not an 'excuse' for anyone, weak or strong. It's not wrong or right, it's not a character defect or flaw, it's not a moral conflict; it is a morally neutral choice.
Suicide is generally more common in men. In 2006 statistics showed that three-quarters of suicides were among men, and the highest rate were of men of 75 and over. It was a similar case for women; the most common suicide rates were of women between the age of 45 and 74.
The big question is: can we ever justify the act of suicide? It's a difficult question, and one that must be approached with sensitivity and deep thought. Suicide must never be used as a throwaway term and must never be brushed under the carpet. It's a worldwide issue that affects both men and women of all ages.
On one side, no one has any real idea of how anyone else feels. Human emotions, thoughts and feelings are individually complex and the only person who can understand you is yourself. You may reach a point of depression where everything seems to be closing in and you feel you can't bear the pain any longer. Suicide seems the only way out to end the endless grief. I myself have had encounters with suicide, though thankfully none of them materialised, but in a strange way I can relate to those suffering people who reached for the gun, knife or pill and ended their lives once and for all.
On the other hand, suicide is not something that can be undone, resolved or otherwise. People who have taken their own lives and ended their pain have ruined other's lives and inflicted pain upon them. Imagine if you were to die; how many people would you be leaving behind? Stop to think about it: friends, family, workmates, acquaintances. When I think of how many young people we read about in the papers, it fills me with sadness. That person could've easily become someone - a film star, a successful businessman/woman, he/she could've changed the world. The possibilities are endless, and now no one will ever know, all because of one simple action, a simple motion that ended their life forever.
When it's all said and done, I can't find anything that could justify suicide, but I do still think it's an issue that's not talked about enough in the world and is something that's misunderstood in the eyes of many. Suicide is not a coward's way out, it's a cry for help. A plea for someone to reach out a hand and help them up before it gets too far. A voice that calls out for understanding. A cry for help that comes far, far too late.
Learn more about this author, Joshua Mackle.
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Yes
As a Christian, for many years I felt that suicide was an unforgivable sin. I felt that the decision of life and death should be left up to God, who has a plan for all of us. We had no business in interfering with His omniscience.
My father, also a devout Christian, always took the opposing view. He reasoned that suicide, when done for unselfish motives, is justified. He believed that if a person were terminally ill and was draining his family either emotionally of financially, or both, God would understand if that person took his own life. I never agreed with Dad, however, until I was forced to contemplate the issue face to face.
At the age of 85, Dad had Parkinson's disease, severe spinal arthritis and stenosis, and regular bouts of congestive heart failure. He suffered two back-to-back heart attacks on top of his other health problems. Always an active man, he was finally restricted to a hospital bed at home.
My brother and I worked full-time jobs, so Mom was left with most of Dad's care. And at the age of 81, she was no spring chicken herself. She had her share of physical ailments, too, and being my father's caregiver was taking a toll on her frail body.
Dad loved my mother desperately. They had been married for 60 years. I honestly don't think I've ever known a man who was so in love with his wife. She was his entire world. He hated the fact that his infirmities were destroying her health, especially when he knew that he would never overcome his illnesses.
One Sunday night, just before Thanksgiving, Dad took his .38 pistol, placed it to his heart, and pulled the trigger. The blast woke Mom up, and she rushed from her room to check on Dad. He was still alive. When she asked him if he was okay, he slowly pulled back the sheet that was covering him to reveal the wound. Mother called 911 immediately.
The ambulance took Dad to the nearby hospital, where doctors performed an emergency operation. Dad's shaky hand was not able to make a perfect aim, so instead of the bullet hitting his heart, it ricocheted around bony structures and took out part of a lung, part of his intestine, a piece of his liver, and the top portion of his stomach before exiting through his back.
I can't imagine the horror Dad must have felt when he realized that the "magic bullet" failed. Instead of ending his pain and suffering, he had just made things worse. He lived three weeks on a respirator and all kings of tubes and gadgets in ICU, losing ground with each passing day. When the doctors gave up all hope, they asked the family about "pulling the plug."
I never hesitated. I knew that if my beloved father could have reached down and torn the life-forcing attachments from their power source, he would have happily done so. He was tired...tired of struggling for breath every day, tired of being in constant pain, and tired of killing my mother, slowly but surely.
By the time the doctors removed all the life support, Dad was unconscious. My sister-in-law, who was head of ICU, said he breathed one last breath before his soul left his poor old body.
I believe, with all my heart, that God welcomed my father with open arms. He understood. His capacity for love knows no bounds. He knew that my father was acting out of love and concern for his wife and family. Daddy had been a wonderful man his entire life and a faithful servant to the Lord. I just can't believe that such a loving God would deny my father's entrance to Heaven under such dire circumstances.
Learn more about this author, Holle Abee.
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