a story

in the coldest month of 1992, in a normal sized town in michigan, a young man diagnosed himself with an incurable condition; he was too philosophical for his own good. irreversibly miserable, he began to plan the end of his life. "the sooner the better," he assumed. after all, his future was, by all angles of consideration, completely void of any form of hope. open discussion of his plans with his father and mother left them deeply alarmed, so they immediately scheduled an appointment with their family doctor. they thought they could simply get him some medication, maybe some counseling, and be done.

"ross," the physician pleaded, "you have a very treatable and curable case of depression at the very worst! you can't give up on life that easily!" the young man argued that, actually, he had every right to make that decision. "i desire to die." he calmly stated. a very heated and yet checked discussion of the implications ensued between the young man, his parents, and their doctor. he claimed to understand every aspect of this decision and asserted that, even the people that cared about him, depending on the sincerity of their concern, should support this educated and well thought out decision. "why wont you just consider giving medications a try?" begged his mother. "i have, in fact, considered the alternatives, and concluded that a chemically altered state of existence is even less desirable than an unaltered and pointless one. plus, i came to this conclusion over the course of three years of much deliberation." in response to their pleading, his parents felt as though they were handed a large, cold, iron ball. after a moment of silence, the practitioner excused herself from the room. "i apologize, but i don't know what to say, i would like to confer with a very trusted associate of mine." in the doctor's absence, the family sat in silence - a silence that was only interrupted by the subtle sobbing of the young man's mother. after what seemed to the mother an eternity, the young man moved to the side of the aching woman, placed his arm around her and pulled her close to his chest. at this, she began to sob uncontrollably, and the father too, joined the embrace, his own tears, in a sense, mingling with the tears of his wife. the only son sat in the middle of this huddle, like a stone, unmoved by his parents' emotional outcry. before the moment had passed, the doctor re-entered the room and requested to speak to the young man in private. the parents solemnly shuffled out of the room and the door shut gently but firmly behind them. they waited outside not able to put their thoughts into words, until the doctor requested their presence once again. with the whole family gathered in the exam room, the doctor told the family that there was nothing she could do, as forcing an individual of his age and consciousness to take any treatment was illegal. she suggested that the whole family take time off of school or work, or anything else to spend time in companionship. the young man appeared to respond positively to this proposition, and his parents took heart. "perhaps, all hope is not lost." they thought to themselves. Later that same evening, as though the universe had somehow heard their thoughts, the young man seemed somehow, inexplicably, happier. the family shared pleasant conversation over dinner and even seemed content to sit in the sitting room and converse for an hour or two. the family went to their respective rooms to retire for the evening at around 10 pm. exhausted from the emotional events of the day, the parents fell asleep quickly with thoughts of encouragement and hope.

the next morning, just two and a half weeks before his twenty-first birthday, the parents found their only son lying in an almost unnatural fetal position on the floor of his bedroom. his lifeless left hand clasped an empty bottle of barbiturate sleeping pills, prescribed by the family physician the day before. in his other hand, a neatly folded note hung gently between his fingers. the young man's father opened the note, and there written in very orderly and purposeful handwriting were the words, "please, try to understand."