Our hearts are broken.
My friend Mark passed away this week.
We are devastated, gutted, numb, shocked.
I am firmly convinced it was a selfless act. He took his own life.
An act of love for his family, an act of freedom and release.
No one will ever know what he thought but that’s what I think.
And that affords some comfort.

This beautiful soul has struggled with mental health all his life.
With his family beside him supporting and loving him throughout.
Some souls aren’t meant for this world.
And this week he took this drastic step.

This isn’t the first time he has tried.
Two years ago he was unsuccessful.
I don’t know but I feel his battle has been harder and more intense since.
For me, on the outskirts, there have been many times I have been lost in the frustration of his illness over these last two years.
His passing has reminded me of what he actually bought to our lives – of the history our families had, of the 23 years we have spent together, of the Mark we knew and loved.

The Mark who embraced our fun and our silliness.
The Mark of so many fun family memories.
Who, one New Years Eve, fossicked in my undie drawer and put my undies up our flagpole. We didn’t know until the neighbours told us the next day.
Who, at my 40th birthday, in June, in Apollo Bay, insisted on having a swim. Then proceeded to drape himself in seaweed and chase us, crazily up the foreshore, waving the seaweed like a man possessed, insisting we should try the water.
The Mark who dressed up every occasion he could or embraced weird face paint or funny hats on crazy hat day at work.
Who coloured and spiked his hair, just turning up, not mentioning it, like it was normal for anyone to look like that at work.
The Mark who I worked beside at Haymes Paint for too many years to count.
The Mark who was there lugging furniture and boxes, setting up beds, every single time I moved house. Quite a few times over the last few years.
The Mark who, in my darkest times, would take me aside and tell me ‘We love you Kim and we are here for you’.
Who wasn’t scared to say that.

And I am grateful.

I am grateful Mark talked about his mental health.
I am grateful that my ‘inner circle’ had a last meal together on Sunday.
I am grateful that I was able to hug Mark and say goodbye, we will see each other soon. Even though we won’t.
I am grateful that I was lucky enough to be in this country when it came to this.
I am grateful that I have been able to spend the last 6 days surrounded by the people I love.
That his family has let me be part of their sorrow and grief – and with whom I have shared my own sorrow.
And I am grateful I can hug my children and my friends and I can say the words ‘I love you’ to them.
Now.

I am grateful Mark gave us this time together.
That he gave so much to so many people in so many different ways.
That he touched so many lives with his kindness and his ability to pitch in and help whenever it was needed.
And yet battled and battled with an illness that wasn’t something our generation, or our parents generation, discussed openly and freely.
An illness we grew up with behind whispered hands and secret nods.
An illness we all have been touched by in some way.
An illness we need to keep talking about and keep making it normal.
Because it is.
Talk about it.

https://www.beyondblue.org.au/the-facts/depression