I had taken the boys to the park for a fun morning of playing and looking at bugs. After that, we went to Costco to do some shopping. We were on our way home when we passed by a vacant lot, which is more like a grassy field. I noticed what looked like a person lying in the grass as we passed by. I continued on my way home, assuming it was a druggie taking a nap. Slowly, it dawned on me that the man was wearing a track suit and a Charger cap...not the typical attire for homeless drug addicts.
I started to feel pangs of guilt as I debated turning around to make sure the guy was OK. The day before, the sermon at church was all about the Good Samaritan and how we shouldn't neglect opportunities to help others. About two blocks away, I made a U-turn and headed back toward the grassy field. I drove by again and the man was still in the same position. I decided to call 911.
As I was on the phone with the operator, I kept circling the block in order to give a description of the man and the exact location. Why didn't I stop and get out? Well, I didn't at first because I had the boys with me and I would have to stop, get out of the van, leave them in the van, walk several feet away to a strange man-- who for all I knew could have a gun and was waiting to ambush some innocent woman.
After the 911 operator assured me the police were on their way, I drove by one more time and noticed another car that had stopped. The driver was a woman and she looked uncertain as to what to do. I pulled over this time and told her I had called 911. We decided we felt safe walking up together to see if the man was still alive.
Here's the field where we found him:
We walked up and got close enough to see that he was dead. What I remember most were his eyes. I'll never forget them...they were open but there was absolutely no life left in them. We called out to the man but we both knew it was too late.
It also really shook me when I noticed that he had a wedding band on his finger. I realized somebody had lost a husband and maybe a father that day. At about that time, a police man arrived. He made sure we didn't touch anything and sent us on our way. I assumed he had been out exercising and had suffered a heart attack.
By the time I got home, after answering as many of Andrew's questions as I could, there was a message on my machine from the police asking that I return to the site of the body. I loaded the boys back into the van and drove back to the location.
There were three fire trucks, a couple ambulances, and about five police cars parked along the road where we found the man. I got out of the van and I admit that I was scared. Part of me was worried that I was in trouble for some reason... that they would consider me a suspect. Too much CSI, I guess.
It turns out they just wanted to find out how close we had gotten to the body, if we touched anything, if we saw anything suspicious, and so on. The policewoman explained that it looked like a suicide. I was shocked! First of all, I didn't see a gun or any blood. Secondly, I couldn't figure out why anyone would choose such a busy intersection to kill themselves.
Well, according to the newspaper story the next morning, he did have a gun. I guess we just didn't see it. He had fallen (or placed himself?) on his back so the blood drained out the back, which is why we didn't see any blood.
I hate suicide. I think it is such a selfish, hurtful thing to do to those who love you. I feel sad for the man and angry at the same time. And I didn't even know him! I guess I resent that he left himself to be found by just anyone. What if a child had found him? I still remember his face and his eyes, I can only imagine what this image might have done to a child. We drive by this field often and almost every time we do, Andrew points it out and says, "Mommy, that's where we found the dead guy, isn't it?" Sometimes he still asks about the man and what happened to him.
Here it is a year later and I still feel emotional about it. Maybe that's because I've known too many people who have committed suicide. My own mom attempted suicide when I was about six years old. She didn't succeed but guess who was the one to find her, lying helpless on the floor? Me. My mom has done lots of things that no mom should do and I don't hold grudges about any of them...except for that. You don't do that to your child.
So, back to the dead man. I never found out his name. Why he took his life. Who he left behind. Why he chose that location to do it. I just know him as the "Dead Guy". I wish I could have done something for him. I hope he's found peace. Mostly, I hope his loved ones are recovering from their loss. Maybe tomorrow I'll leave some flowers where I found him... or maybe I won't.
