Who Is At Risk
                                                                               

            When I was fifteen, our paperboy took a shine to my older sister. and I became part of the drama, without the risk, or so I thought at the time.
             Sammy hand-delivered our paper when we were outside. One day, he stopped and asked my sister if she could go to the dance on Saturday. It wasn’t easy to get our dad to say yes to anything, but a few days later he told us we could go to the dance. We were so excited for the evening to begin.

            When we got to the high school gym we saw Sammy. Before long, he became our shadow, we couldn’t get away from him. Later, my sister said it was hopeless. She and I danced together several times, even did the twist a few times. Sammy and my sister danced three slow songs, but neither looked comfortable on the dance floor.
            Then it was time to go, our great evening wasn’t as great as we thought it would be. My sister informed me that Sammy asked to walk home with us and she said he could, but only to the railroad tracks, a block before our house.  I was worried because our dad was strict.
            As we neared the tracks, Sammy asked me to walk ahead. My sister said, “No, walk with us.” Then in a flurry of excitement I found myself alone on the road, Sammy and my sister were behind me. I didn’t know what to do, so I just waited to be told what to do.
             My sister appeared by herself. “Where is Sammy?” I asked.
            “Never mind. And why didn’t you walk with us?” she said.
            “I did. I mean I tried, but you and Sammy disappeared behind me.”
            For a few days after the dance, Sammy stopped with the paper, but my sister made sure she was inside the house. And then the phone rang. It was Sammy’s mother. She said Sammy took his life. My mother and sister attended Sammy’s funeral, while I babysat for Sammy’s nephews.

             Nearly forty years later, Sammy’s suicide still haunts me. Little was said about what happened between Sammy and my sister. But it seemed that Sammy had nowhere to go with his feelings, no one to talk to about how he felt.
            I believe Sammy was at risk years or months before he met my sister. I say this because he took his life at a young age, but also because his father, uncle, and grandfather took their lives. Over many years, Sammy saw how other men in his family dealt with tragic or confusing emotions, and he followed their lead.
            This is the end of my story, of what I know about Sammy, but he and his family may have been dealing with more than serious emotional upsets leading to suicide. They may have had an undiagnosed mental illness, that if treated, could have saved all their lives.

NAMI is an organization that can be counted on to help those with mental illness.