For some, before they are about to do it there is a window of opportunity where there is enough despair and energy to end their life. But you can’t be suicidal and dying with side-splitting laughter at the same time. They not only closed that window of opportunity for me that day, they boarded it shut.
When it was safe to do so without getting too close to the sound source, I laid my head down and decided what to do next. I stared up at the stucco ceiling. It was, I realized, the first time I laughed in almost a year.
The next morning, I had nothing to pack since I brought in no luggage, so in the morning, just before I left, I sat on the edge of the bed and assessed the situation.
“One more try,” I said to myself. “Give it one more try, another month, and maybe by then you’ll be fine again.”
I stood up, looked around me. The suicide note was still on the dresser. I looked at it, smiled, and tore it to bits.
“Not this time. Not this time.”
I made an early morning departure, barely able to make eye contact with the couple. I was afraid I would burst into laughter at the thought of their make-up sex the prior evening.
Looking back, that was perhaps the most curious and inadvertent suicide intervention I ever had in my life. If I ever met them again I would thank them, because if they had been the quiet type, I do believe I wouldn’t be here today.