I went to work. It was a bad idea. Team mate from Scotland walks in, says 'how are you' as you do, and I dissolve. She eventually manages to get some sense out of me. She says 'go home'. I try to deal with some e-mail as I haven't been in office since Thursday. Send a msn to my boss. Turns out he's a few desks away and team-mate must have been round to speak to him. He says 'go home' too. More bawling as I leave so he physically bundles me into a cab and says to claim it on expenses. At last he comes through as a good guy!
I told the taxi to take me to Wimbledon station. Was actually a lady cab driver which was rather comforting. I bought flowers and wrote a card and then descended onto platform 7, crying, flowers in my arms. But why was I crying? How did my friend feel when he walked along there on Sunday afternoon? Knowing he wasn't going to come back. It's awful that he died. But I think what has really caught me unawares is the sorrow that a friend must have been in such turmoil - seemingly on his own.
I've had a conversation with miniwomble in the past about suicide bombers. About the fact that someone can have such belief in a cause that they will sacrifice their life for it. I can understand that. I couldn't do it because I'm a coward and too selfish.
But suicide because your own life is so bad that death is the only solution. Possibly to have felt so alone that no-one knew what was going on. As friends how does that make us feel? For the person how dreadful was it in the last minutes, hours, days?
So, job done. I went home. Only to return again just after 7pm with friends to place more flowers. To remember together. On a through platform at Wimbledon. So desolate. So lonely. So bleak. It's difficult to understand what must have happened on Sunday afternoon. But then, it's none of our business. It was that of our friend. A private person. He would have hated any idea of us trying to guess what was going on in his head. I've said before that I'm not religious. I just hope that he is at rest and in a place where he is happy.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
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