I spent a few years working as a volunteer coordinator at the central food bank in Winnipeg during the late 1990s. Most of the work in the warehouse was (and still is) done by volunteers. There are school and church groups, retired men and women, recent immigrants and refugees. We had young men from Germany who would do a 2 year volunteer stint in place of mandatory army service. There were also a number of people who couldn' t hold down a regular job often due to some kind of mental illness. I loved the incredible diversity of that work place.
There was one volunteer who stood out from many of the others. He was smart, responsible and cheerful. Often he would tell us about his 2 daughters, whom he obviously adored. He talked about coaching their softball teams in the summer months and all the fun outings he had with them. We knew that he and his wife were seperated but other than that, we knew very little about him. He told us that he had worked for many years for a company in town but that he had decided to take a break from it. Working at the food bank was something that he was doing to keep himself busy until he felt ready to reenter the corporate world.
Frank came to work almost every day. He seemed happy, content and thrilled to be helping out at the food bank. When he didn't show up for several days, we wondered where he was but we were not too surprised. Volunteers come and go often. He had no phone so we couldn't call him but we were confident that he would show up sooner or later. Everyone else did.
On a Monday morning, I got the phone call. The woman asked for me by name and identified herself as someone from the coroner's office. She asked me if I knew Frank and then she dropped the bombshell: "Frank committed suicide last Friday."
I was dumbfounded. I didn't know what to say. I wracked my brain, trying to remember the last conversations we had and there was nothing that I could recall that might have indicated that he was contemplating something so extreme. We had spoken on Thursday and the last thing he said was, "See you tonight."
Then she told me that he had left a note addressed to Lee (my supervisor) and me and asked if she could bring it to us.
That afternoon she came and offered her condolences. She was very good at her job; compassionate and helpful, answering our questions honestly. I don't remember too much about the note except that it was hand written, neat and included an apology to us for doing something so extreme. He had folded it carefully and placed it somewhere in his room where it would be found. Frank made sure to tell us that we had nothing to do with his decision to kill himself and that he had found that the people at the food bank were a great group of people with whom he could spend his last months. The note sounded like Frank. Normal, friendly and responsible (he left the key for us too).
I looked at the note and realized that this was one of the last things Frank had done before he killed himself. I was one of the last people he thought of. There was something very disturbing about that and I remember studying the paper, looking on the back of it, smelling it, just trying to find some clue as to why on earth he would do such a thing.
But there was no clue.
We discovered more about Frank during the following weeks. We learned that he had not seen his daughters for over 2 years and had not spoken to his wife for nearly as long. He had led us to believe that he saw them regularly, that he was sad about the break up with his wife but he was dealing with it. He had even begun to date again. I was shocked that he could fool us all so completely.
When Joyce over at Blunderview entitled her post, "
Mental Illness Kills," I was reminded of Frank. I still wonder on occasion if there might have been something we missed or could have done to help him out. I don't think so but it's hard not to wonder.
I wonder if he had a mental illness that he never told us about. One where he could function well during the day but not alone at night. Or maybe he was afraid of being "found out." As we got to know Frank better, we began to realize that some of his story just didn't add up. Maybe he was afraid that we would discover the truth about his sad and sorry life and would no longer accept him.
I suppose we'll never know. I just know that for one night, he felt desperate enough to take his own life. That is so sad.
I wish I could say that something good came out of this all. That his daughters have forgiven their dad and moved on or that I learned more about the signs of someone who is suicidal and was able to help someone else. But I can't. This is one of those messy moments of life where there is no closure.
I don't know where Frank is now. I believe in heaven and in a loving God and I hope that one day I will meet Frank there. For now, I will just wonder about him every now and then.
Sunday night we went to one of Manitoba's most interesing places, the "Half Moon." It's a nifty 50's style restaurant in Lockport. We went with some of my favourite people for ice cream. 
She seems to be handling the cast quite well although everyone feels sorry for her. I already gave her a new toy. After 3 weeks I'm worried that she will be fat and spoiled.
Chelsea is no longer an Ontario cousin but I like this picture.
A great weekend, but sleep was in short supply. Here's Wes at the wedding, after most of the guests had gone home. 
All I need is a body makeover and I will look like this woman. Imagine, after living almost 50 years, married for about 28 of them and having 4 children, I can look like this. Oh joy. No need to diet, exercise or do anything except be willing to "go under the knife." 
Sammy has to leave our home. We had to make a decision between him and the 4 teenagers living in this house.
I will post the "fixed up" tree when it's fixed up (when Wes gets home).
