Helpless bystanders ...

I watched someone die today.  It was probably suicide because no one falls over a bridge that sturdy unless he or she climbs the barriers.  Having said that, it was upsetting to say the least.   Not exactly the brightest start on my first day at work. 

I would probably had carried on being oblivious had I not notice three people on the other side of the bridge peering into the river below.  There was an air of bewilderment and alarm about them.   Sensing some kind of crisis was brewing I slowed my pace and peered onto my side of the bridge.  By then, one of the man who was on the other side had stopped traffic and raced over to my side of the bridge.  Seconds later the police arrived.  I soon discovered what the commotion was all about...

What soon emerged from under the bridge was rather stricken looking silver haired man threading water.  He was clearly gasping - his body reeling from the freezing waters.  I, along with an increasing crowd of bystanders helplessly watched as he bobbed gently down stream.

'Gently down the stream' is probably not the best word to describe the upsetting scene that was unfolding.  Set against freezing swirls and eddies of the river's tide and the cloak of bewildered silence on the bridge above, it all seemed strangely surreal.  The only thing that revealed the actual reality of that unfolding tragedy was  the howling child from the original three who had watched him fall. Visibly upset, he probably could not understand why everyone including the police simply stood by to watch.

I wondered,  did the child know the stricken man in the river?  Was he a son?  A grandson?  As I watched his father hugged him refusing to let him cross over to our side of the bridge to watch him slowly sink under the river's tides, I had concluded that he was like us a helpless but young bystander.

And that's how I felt.  That sinking feeling of helplessness.  The despair of watching someone's slowly dying before your very eyes as you stood by.  The less I saw of him bobbing, the more certain I knew he would eventually succumb to the cold.  Hypothermia kills.  Faster than you think.  No one with a boat was close enough to fish him out.

Unable to watch any further, I turned away to continue my walk towards work.  It was then I caught sight of faces of other bystanders.  Most ... quietly in tears.  I overheard a man tell someone when asked what had happened: 'He jumped off the bridge ...'

Why...? What made him despair so he gave up on life?  Why make a public spectacle of it ... he knew 830am would be rush hour for many.  Was he truly so alone that he needed the public to witness his gradual demise?  He had no doubt succeeded in creating an even bigger traffic jam that morning.

The eeriest thing was, that stricken man who was fished more dead than alive out of the river 20 minutes later reminded me of one of my more mature course mates who I would sit next to in class.   It's probably not him since N seemed so full of life ... but just the thought that it could be someone I know made me sadder.

On the side of irony, he succeeded in achieving what he set out to do.  He did not survive.  Yet the way he chose to end his life - taking drastic actions to drown out his God given life, made the world weep. I hope he finds his peace ...