I met Linda in 7th grade. We became close friends in high school, as we were both singers in a vocal jazz group called The Harmattan. We were also close friends in high school because her boyfriend, Andy, was my best friend in high school. After high school (and after she and Andy went their separate ways) I remained close to both of them. Linda and I would get together every so often and we were very open with each other. We talked about everything and authentically enjoyed each other’s company.
As often happens, as the years sped by and our lives got busier, I ended up moving away from the Bay Area in Northern California where she was. We saw less of each other. Our communications became infrequent, but not non-existent.
And then it happened.
I recently received word from a mutual friend that she had taken her own life.
During the funeral services I was able to be there virtually, thanks to Zoom. When her younger sister, whom I also knew, gave the eulogy, she wept at the bitter pain of having lost her big sister, causing me to weep also.
Her sister made a curious statement towards the end of her speech. She urged us not to say the words “Linda committed suicide.” Why not? She likened the words “committed” (used as a verb) to many other negative statements such as:
She then said, “Because if you say the words “Committed suicide, I will give serious consideration to punching you in the face. I may not do it, but I will be thinking about it.”
Perhaps intended as a humorous comment; perhaps not. (She said she preferred the phrase, “Linda killed herself” – hardly a kinder, gentler choice of words).
While I would never correct a grieving woman who lost someone they love deeply, I personally have no qualms about the wording of “she committed suicide.”
A mutual friend of mine and Linda’s, who was also on the Zoom call, phoned me afterwards. He pointed out that the verb “committed” does not find use strictly in negative constructs. For instance:
I had to remind him it’s hard not to notice that when the word committed is immediately followed by a discreet act of some kind, as opposed to a symbolic, broad, or intangible gesture, it seems the former typically has a dark undercurrent. To commit arson is a very specific action; to commit to supporting local artists has somewhat less precise properties. So I defer to her wishes. I won’t utter the phrase in her presence out of respect for her grieving.
In the meantime, I am grateful we have ceremonial gatherings to remember those who have left this stage of existence. Such events, painful though they may be, are a part of life and they allow those of us who remain to grieve in our own way, to comfort each other, and to reflect on the memories of the past.
And that, my friends, is the latest elephant in the room.
