I never knew the man who took his service weapon and walked into his back yard and took his own life. I never knew him, but I knew the aftermath of his decision to end his pain.
I was asked to travel the distance and meet his coworkers and somehow guide them to piece together the puzzle that he had left in his backyard. How does one make sense of something when our viewpoint is through a window that is etched with life? Somehow, I became the puzzle master with no answers. I was told there was a man who was there before me and maybe he would have answers. As I traveled the distance I reached out to the man. He had some answers, but his voice did calm my helpless hands. It was clear the man’s soul was rich in religion, but his words preached wisdom, not religion. As I drove it became apparent, he was a Holy Man.
I stood in the room with the coworkers and saw and felt the ripple effect from that backyard. His coworkers were sad, mad, confused, and wanted answers. I’ve lived a life of policies, rules, procedures, and guidelines. My role here as a puzzle master was to provide an environment for these coworkers to talk, vent, bond, cry, or sit in silence. The guidelines say that supervisors are not to be in this room, so the coworkers can feel free to talk. But the coworkers wanted answers. I stepped outside the guidelines and asked a supervisor to enter the room. I lowered my head as if I was defeated. I sat in silence. As the supervisor answered their questions, the room changed, and the pieces somewhat began to fit together. Two of the coworkers started to cry and then the supervisor cried. The supervisor was a good friend of mine and that was the first time I had seen him cry.
Over the years the location of the puzzle has changed but the puzzle remains the same. It’s not always clear cut like that backyard but it’s still a puzzle. I’ve stood in the remains of a home more than once with a large black bag lying on the floor, trying to sift through the answers. Looking up at my coworker he knows it’s time to lift the body and place it in a bag. As we zip the bag closed our rubber gloved hands touch and we never say a word. We stand at the back of trucks soaked in sweat, or our fingers numb from the cold, and we talk about the lack of answers. We meet with family, the victims, and the ones also seeking answers. We feel their pain and yes, we too have cried.
I sat there with a Marine who is temporarily in a wheelchair and watched him twiddle his thumbs. He would not make eye contact with me. As I spoke about the puzzle that put him in that chair, a tear rolled from his weathered hard face. As his wife comforted him, a tear rolled from mine.
I stood in the house of a firefighter and gazed into the shadow box that displayed his calling and his ending. I was taken aback that somehow my efforts to calm him were also displayed in that box.
What I can tell you are the thoughts from a simple man who has lived a life full of color. I’ve tried to educate myself in the ways of the brain, trauma, and to become a puzzle master to calm others but I am a simple man that uses his hands to calm his soul. I know clinical terms to define trauma and the healing process, but I seldom use them. To most looking through that etched window of life they would say I have seen people at their worst. I have seen people broken, busted, hopeless, helpless, and without faith in life. But to me, a simple man, I say I have seen them at their best. No egos, no attitudes, no status, no power, just a soul looking for comfort and a few answers. We heal an open wound with stiches and tape. But how do we heal an open wound in our soul? Sometimes answers do help with the healing process but what heals us the most is the bonds we make as struggle to find our calmness within. From the supervisor, my coworker, the Marine, and the fire fighter, who I saw at their best have all bonded amid the broken puzzle. Ultimately, the answers to all those puzzles was: this is life. From those bonds we grow into the people we need to be. The people that life needs us to be. The clinical term is called Post Traumatic Growth and we get there by bonding. We bond to others, we bond to life, and we bond to ourselves.
I will never have the answers for why that man took his life in his backyard. But from those puzzle pieces the Holy Man and I have bonded together. We bonded from torn wreckage of souls and now we try and help others find their own calmness. It’s been hard to say the words “I’m retired” but I am. The guilt and shame of leaving the puzzle is getting better. I spend my days and nights using my hands to calm my soul. What I miss most is seeing people at their best and forging from those puzzles that life gives us. For the most part, the answers will always remain a mystery but the answers to our growth as a society is in the relationships we form with others as we travel on this path called life.
Over 45 years ago in a place far from here a young boy in search of that calmness we all need made a cross from cedar trees and placed it in the woods. He joined the cross together with nails and drove them into the cedar trees with a hammer. For over 45 years the cross has remained in that spot in the woods. At some point time caused the nails to separate from the cedar trees. Though the nails and cedar trees no longer make a cross the memory of that forging will forever be etched in the windows of life. -Josey
For more information on Post Traumatic Growth, or for help, help is available . Military and first responders can find help at
International Critical Incident Stress Foundation
United States Marine Corps – Training Command
For more of Josey’s stories with Dr Jeffrey Mitchell, got to https://crucialmoments.org/
To read more of Josey’s blog stories, https://theroadmapcompany.com/blog/
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