He didn't show up for work and his phone has been turned off all day. His boss phoned the police station and asked if there's any way we could pop around to his home and check in on him. He's sure it's nothing, but just wants to confirm he's not unwell because he's never failed to turn up to work.
Apparently he is the most reliable employee in the history of employees, always on time and always shows up with a smile. He's been a little down lately though, preoccupied. His marriage ended over a year ago, but he is doing okay and things are starting to look up again. Could we just stop in quickly, please? A welfare check is organised and we head straight off.
It's early evening when we arrive at his address and the neighbourhood is buzzing with surrounding families preparing for the end of the day. Although his car is in the driveway, his home is in darkness. We walk up a few steps onto the verandah of the low-set house and peek through the windows. I see that the interior is neat and tidy, nothing seems out of place or unusual. There's no answer to our knocking so we move around to the side of the wraparound verandah.
There's a small timber table with a single chair. We see a few empty cans of liquor on the table, a wallet and a piece of paper with a blue pen. The paper has heavy-handed writing: "I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore." Underlined. I read it again. "I'm sorry…". I've seen this kind of note before.
My partner and I exchange glances but no words are necessary. We start trying the doors and windows with a sense of urgency, but's all locked; everything is locked. We run around to the backyard where there's a large shed. From under the shed door we see a narrow, horizontal line of light. The latch to the door is unlocked and we open it not knowing what to expect.
Nothing can prepare you for the moment you find someone who has chosen to take their own life.
We, as police, see death in all its forms – it's a part of our job. Death from traffic crashes, death from illness, old age, accidental, by design. It almost hardens you in a way and you become somewhat desensitised, but it can keep you up at night. Right now, in this moment, I'm sorry for him. I'm sorry for his family and for his friends – they don't yet know, but soon will. I'm sorry we couldn't get here sooner. I'm sorry he could see no other way.
If you are living with depression or having suicidal thoughts or feelings, please seek help. Click here for information on how. I acknowledge that there's no quick fix – it is a journey, but don't let suicide be the permanent solution to a temporary problem. Depression can be awful to live with, there's no two ways about it. But stick it out, because when you make it through, you will see it's not a bad life. It was a bad time in your life. Your story doesn't end there.
September is Suicide Awareness Month. Reach out to those you love. It can start with three little words: Are you okay?
September 8 was R U OK day. Even thought R U OK day has past, it doesn't mean you still can't ask your family, friends and those around you – are you okay? Be honest, be open. Talking about it takes away the stigma and opens the door for opportunities to help ease your burdens.
September 10 is World Suicide Prevention Day. Again, start the conversation and then keep the conversation going.
If you or someone you know needs help, please get in contact with these national 24/7 crisis services:
Lifeline: 13 11 14 or www.lifeline.org.au
Suicide Call Back Service: 1300 659 467 or www.suicidecallbackservice.org.au
MensLine Australia: 1300 78 99 78 or www.mensline.org.au
beyondblue: 1300 224 636 or www.beyondblue.org.au
This post was originally published on the MyPolice blog and republished with permission from Queensland Police.
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