On Christmas Day, I attended the wake of my ex-manager who killed himself. It came as a quite a surprise as he has always been a very cheerful and friendly guy. I’ll always remember him cooking for the end-of-term parties we’d have at the centre I was in. He was a brilliant chef and took great pride in his cooking.
Like a pebble dropped into a placid lake, his death will, and already has, created ripples beyond the initial drop. His elderly mother mourns for him, a son most obedient. His family mourns for the loss of a father, a husband. As colleagues, we mourn the loss of a friend, a manager, an excellent worker.
What will we tell the children? Those he met every day in the centre, those who call him Uncle Kenny? Will we shield them from the truth? Can they handle it? But how long can we hide it for? It was after all, front page news. Word will spread. This is a small country.
The overarching theme of my reflections today was wondering how it was, in the company that employed almost 200 people, most of whom he was on extremely good terms with, that there was not a single one of us that he could have reached out to in that time of crisis.
But perhaps there is no one to blame. In a moment of great distress, there is no telling what one might resort to.
I pondered upon a post my friend put up on Facebook shortly after the news was announced. I agree with her. It is so true that whatever we put our hope in is so important. Because once that hope is taken away, our life shatters.
A violent death this Christmas season from someone so utterly unexpected. My mood is sombre and contemplative. I don’t quite know what to say. We can only be here for one another in this time. And I pray that will be enough.