D.O.A.

When I was 15 years old, I killed myself. One could say it was accidental but then one might be lying. Looking back, it must have been a very upsetting and even humiliating experience for my mother. Sorry mom.

Why did I do it? Oh, what a complicated question to which there is no simple answer.

The door was open. It has always been open for as long as I can remember. And one day, I just stepped through it.

I have been asked what I saw on the other side and the answer is nothing. Perhaps an overdose of drugs and alcohol blots out the shining light...

I saw nothing, but I learned something... Death answers to God.

(God was kind enough to remind me of this yesterday at our staff picnic. A friend mentioned that he had once died... and suddenly I recalled a day long ago, a day I had almost forgotten, a day that taught me that God calls the shots, not me.)