LIFE LESSONS

A Free Hug Can Be The Most Valuable Thing To Give And Get

What did the suicide of my closest friend teach to me?

The train driver saw a slender young man standing on the railway tracks looking at the coming train. It was still a few hundred meters away, and the loud warning siren usually was enough to clear the way.

Not this time. The young man turned his back slowly to the train, and the driver heard a thud when the train hit the man at full speed.

And that’s how my closest friend ceased to exist.

A grim reading

When my friend committed suicide in 1984, Finland was one of the leading countries in suicides. According to OECD statistics, South Korea is now in the highest spot on this dark leaderboard.

Men are 3–4 times more likely to take their own life than women. And the suicide rate of young men is alarming.

Tristan Tell’s recent article How To Talk To A Depressed Friend brought back my painful memories. His advice is now more critical than ever.

We need to care more and ignore less; we need to keep our minds, eyes and ears open to others, whoever they might be.

We might be able to save somebody’s life even if we don’t realise it at the moment.

The wounds of suicide never heal

After reading Tristan’s blog, I spend hours thinking about my friend, who I name here as Daniel.

We were young, ambitious and full of great expectations for the future. Daniel was a ridiculously talented young actor, songwriter and singer.

One of my most cherished memory is about our hitchhiking in the early 80s to Finland’s Lapland with Daniel. It was a gorgeous August, and our summer job at a theatre had just ended.

We spent two weeks travelling, talking, meeting strange people and admiring the northern lights while sitting in front of our tent in the flickering light of our campfire.

I can still hear Daniel’s sonorous, soft and melancholy voice and the skilful and delicate guitar playing. I wanted to listen to his singing forever.

Slowly the campfire died, and we were under the canopy of stars and the northern lights who listened to Daniel like me in awe and love.

And I have tears in my eyes like I did those nights of eternal beauty on warm dark August nights a long ago.

Life took us in different directions

After our two-week escape, I had to return to my work, and he went back to the Theatre School.

We shared the same flat, but I was mainly away working in a different town. We saw each other less and less.

I should have seen the signs but ignored them. I was too full of myself and my work to realise something was profoundly wrong with Daniel.

Until I once came home from one week gig and saw the flat destroyed. Daniel had blocked the drain and let the water fill the flat while smashing all but my books into pieces.

Daniel knew that I loved my books more than anything else. It still hurts me like hell to think how Daniel didn’t want to hurt me but himself in his agony and pain.

Daniel’s girlfriend had also left him, and his classmates were puzzled and didn’t know what was happening. Then he was accepted to a mental hospital for treatment.

So, Daniel went to the hospital; I cleaned the mess and moved to another city for my work.

I was blind and deaf when I saw Daniel for the last time

Time went by. In those days, there were no social media, cell phones or the internet. I didn’t have time to visit Daniel. I built my career and focused on my work.

After all, I thought he was in good hands and getting professional help.

Daniel called me a few times from the hospital. We exchanged empty news and hollow words.

His silent moments made me uneasy, and often I just told him that I had to go and ended the call by saying, let’s talk again soon.

That soon grew to weeks, then months.

Then, out of the blue, there was a knock at my door. Daniel was there looking terrible. He had gotten permission from the hospital to visit me.

The two-hour train ride to my town has taken an enormous toll. Daniel was nervous and scared.

We sat in my kitchen, and I couldn’t reach Daniel. He looked at me like a bird caught by a snare. He was shaking slightly, and his eyes were darting from me to his trembling hands.

– “This is now how I am”, said Daniel in a monotonous voice that had no colour but darkness in its tone, “are you still my friend?” he asked. There was a lump in my throat.

That lump is still there every time I remember that moment.

I nodded in response. I couldn’t say a word. I couldn’t make a move. And then Daniel stood up, turned his back and walked away.

A few weeks later, I got a call and the news that Daniel had ended his life.

I sat long, unable to do anything but cry.

I knew that Daniel was gone forever; he turned his back to me and then to the train. That was the last time something touched him in this world — train instead of me because I wasn’t there for him even if I was sitting opposite him.

Could I have done something to save Daniel?

Absolutely. That’s why the wound that Daniel’s suicide cut into my heart has never truly healed.

It still bleeds because I didn’t say aloud that I am his friend forever. I didn’t hug him to show that I was real and there for him. I didn’t stop my internal jabber to listen to him.

I sat there more worried about my thoughts and feelings than Daniel’s well-being.

Do I blame myself?

No. There is no point in that. I was a selfish fool; that much is true. But I also cared and wanted to help Daniel. I just didn’t know how.

My worry about Daniel was genuine, and my love for him was real. I was his friend, but I didn’t know how to be a friend.

At that time, I was a perfect example of a young Finnish male: don’t show that you care, don’t dare to share and hide every bit of your emotions because somebody might use your vulnerability against you.

We need to learn to listen, hear and see each other. That’s why Tristan’s article is so important.

It is complex, challenging and scary, but somebody’s life can depend on our courage to take the first step and open our minds for others to step in.

One thing that he helped me to move on

As said earlier, in the OECD statistics, South Korea has the top spot in suicide rates. Strangely, it was in Seoul that I had the weirdest coincident of my life.

I was there on a business trip and had several days of terrible feelings and so low self-esteem that my soul was like a sewer of all the shit my life had swallowed.

I was outside shiny but inside shitty.

Then, one afternoon I had some time of my own. I escaped the five-star hotel and started to meander around Seoul.

In the crowd of this buzzing city, I felt lonelier than ever. I bought a violin for my small son and some souvenirs for my wife, but I still felt lost and miserable. I kept walking and hoping that the feeling would go away.

In the middle of one little square stood a young and slender man holding high a sign. There was something very familiar in this man’s posture and the way he moved with the sign.

I walked closer to see the sign and what was written on it.

I expected to see some Korean language, but when the young man turned around to face me, I could read the words ‘Free Hugs’.

The young man looked me directly in the eyes.

My heart sank.

Those eyes were identical to Daniel’s eyes that had closed so long ago forever. That young man was precisely the same height and built as Daniel.

There was this mischievous twinkle in his eyes — just like Daniel had when he sang one of his saddest songs at the campfire and saw me secretly wiping my eyes.

And he kept staring at me.

I couldn’t stop tears running. I felt that joy of living came back to me because I knew Daniel was my friend forever, and I wasn’t why he killed himself. And this was proof of it.

The young man put the sign down and embraced me, giving me the longest, sweetest, strongest hug I had ever received. I felt forgiven and whole. I was not alone anymore, never alone, because I learned in the busy Seoul to reach out and let in.

The wound in my heart has never fully healed. And I wish it would never have any scar tissue on it because the hurt from it makes me check my attitudes towards others every time.

That wound is a permanent reminder of the life lesson Daniel gave me.

Be open and not full of yourself. Be the life you can share because it is eternal and endless and yours to share, one lifetime at a time.

Free hugs are the most precious things we possess

Like Tristan’s article tells us, we don’t need to be perfect and therapeutic or councillors in the making. We just need to be there for our friends and all people, for that matter.

We have an infinite amount of hugs to give and life to live to the fullest if we are courageous enough to be open.

A small word, smile and friendly gesture are sometimes enough to save our day — and somebody’s life.

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