This week Henry and his PAC colleagues Opal and Toto worked a suicide prevention conference in Los Angeles. It was for a network that includes everyone from mental health professionals to researchers and even survivors. They work in different ways to fight suicide, focusing on “hope, recovery and well being.” Their sign says so much, “The Hero In Each of Us.”
As I walked from the parking garage to join the large group gathered on the patio of the downtown office building, I was a little nervous and expecting the mood to be somber. I had even debated about bringing the dogs’ props. I thought they might be inappropriate.
ELBEE She had them in her bag just in case.
I needn’t have worried. As soon as the dogs came in, there was so much excitement that it felt like a party. The pups completely changed the atmosphere. When lots of the attendees wanted to take selfies with them, I brought out the sunglasses that I had stashed in my purse.
On a serious note, the comfort of having the dogs there allowed people to open up and relate to each other. I had chosen to bring Henry because, although he doesn’t have the experience of his “brothers,” he has this special ability to connect with people. Plus, a gentle giant is very difficult to ignore.
As he leaned in for back rubs, people petted him and shared stories. I kept hearing the words “appreciation” and “gratitude” for the three dogs. Opal and Henry worked so hard, they needed a moment.
Unfortunately, suicide has closely touched my life. In March of my senior year of high school, my dad died of a brain tumor, just short of his forty-sixth birthday. When he passed, something in my mother died too.
My father was the quintessential extrovert. He didn’t walk into a room. He made an entrance. He emceed the shows at my grandparents’ summer resort in the Catskills, telling jokes and singing. My mother was truly the wind beneath his wings, long before that sentiment was expressed in song.
She never recovered from the loss of my father. She remained loving and kind but was never herself again. I’m sure she stayed for me and my brother. Years later, when Doug and I were married, she probably thought that I could lean on him and my brother could lean on the two of us. It was time to say goodbye.
