I found out today that a friend from law school committed suicide this weekend. He wasn't my best friend, or anything close to it. What he was, however, was one of my favorite people I met during my three years of law school.
He was a year ahead of me, so we didn't share any classes; at least, I can't think of any that we had together. He was good friends with a group of people that were friends with people I was friends with, so we went to some of the same parties and other school-related events. And he made me laugh. So much so that there were a lot of times we'd be talking and I would have to stop him because I (a) couldn't breathe, (b) peed my pants, or (c) both at the same time.
We went out a couple of times, mostly to talk about school; he had gone on the study abroad program our school offered to London and I was really interested in going. We met for dinner and a few beers to talk about it. We talked about our schedules and he loaned me a textbook for Conflicts of Law, with a professor who relied very heavily on the Socratic Method. Having that book is the only reason I even came close to passing that class.
You see, a lot of times in law school, people will make "outlines" of a class, kind of a road map of how a class will go. With this particular professor, you could have an outline that had been made five years before you took the class and you'd be ok because he never changed anything. Every year was the same thing. Well, when I borrowed my friend's book, I thought he'd give me his outline, too, but what he gave me was so much more spectacular. Inside his book, he had written, almost verbatim, every question the professor asked and the correct answer to said question. I am not kidding you when I say that there were times I was called on in class and the ONLY reason I was able to answer any of the questions was because of that book. And I fully credit my B+ in that class to him, because no way was I getting any extra credit for class participation on my own.
I have to admit that I did my fair share of shaking my head at some of the stranger things he's done. There are some stories about him that make absolutely no sense because they just don't fit with the guy I know. They started making more sense, though, when I found out that he had been diagnosed with schizophrenia and that he wasn't taking his medication.
I'm not sure why he felt this was the only way out for him. I hope he didn't feel like no one would miss him or people wout be better off without him, because that's totally not true. I for one, would have jumped at the chance to tell him how great I thought he was. Or how, back in the day, I had a little crush on him because he was so cute and nice and because of the way he could tell a funny story like nobody's business. I would also thank him for giving me something to look forward to during school, because just talking to him would really make my day.
He hasn't lived in Utah for a few years and the last time I talked to him was a couple of years ago. He called me at work out of the blue. I wish I could remember what we talked about, but really all I can remember is that I was surprised that he called and that I was happy to talk to him. And I think that is how I'll always feel when thinking of him. I'm so sad that he's gone, but at the same time I'm glad that I was lucky enough to know him, and that will make me happy.
