At age 44, I
’ve seen more than my share of life’s tragedies. But few
tragedies equal one of a 19-year-old taking his own life. And when
it happens to a close friend, the tragedy is personal and amplified
to a far greater degree.
A woman I knew just drowned herself
The well was deep and muddy
She was just shaking off futility,
Or punishing somebody
- Joni Mitchell, Song for Sharon
At age 44, I’ve seen more than my share of life’s tragedies. But few tragedies equal one of a 19-year-old taking his own life. And when it happens to a close friend, the tragedy is personal and amplified to a far greater degree. To those of us who knew Brian Enos, we knew he wasn’t trying to shake off life’s futility; Brian had a lot of things he looked toward in life.
I met Brian when we all started playing poker a little over a year ago. Brian would come to my house once, twice, or more times per week. He would come over every Friday night for our poker tournaments. We would speak and exchange text messages many times per day.
Brian was an incredible poker player. He had a natural instinct for playing cards and winning money. He would often finish within the top 10 places in large poker tournaments, winning hundreds, and sometimes thousands of dollars. It was sometimes frustrating to play against Brian because he had a natural ability to “read you” and know exactly what cards you held in your hand. His skills were uncanny. He looked forward to turning 21, and playing in the World Series of Poker. I have no doubt he would have done better than most.
Brian approached life much like he approached his poker game. He was either all-in, or he would fold. It seemed like there was little room for anything in between. However, playing life the same way he played poker was a lethal combination. Life should not be a game of all-in, or fold. Sometimes we need to learn to live in moderation, and we need to understand that we can’t win every hand. Brian wanted it all; and especially, he wanted “Andrea” – his girlfriend (not her real name).
Numerous times I tried to talk to Brian about his relationship with Andrea. I tried to use my influence as an older, wiser friend to help him realize that he was in an unhealthy relationship, and it was best if he stayed away. I tried to tell him that his emotional pain was temporary; and it would eventually diminish. I knew much better things would lie ahead if he would only allow time and distance to heal the wound. I was able to see these destructive signs in Brian, because it seemed as if I was looking into my own past – 18 years ago.
Eighteen years ago, I came to that same crossroads. I sat up one night ready to take my own life because my live-in girlfriend was staying out all night with another man. I was ready to go into the bathroom to slit my wrist. I reasoned, if she wasn’t cheating on me, then she’d eventually come home to discover me, and presumably spare my life. If she was cheating, then she would likely stay out all night; I would die, and I’d finally be out of my misery.
However instead of following through with my plan, I did something equally as drastic. I called the only person in the world who I thought could help: David. At 1:30am, David’s father answered the phone, and instead of getting angry, he immediately awoke his son to talk to me in my time of need. David helped me realize that life itself was the winning hand, and that folding it was not my choice to make.
That day changed my life forever. Not only was my physical life spared, but with David’s guidance, my spiritual life began. I shared this story with Brian along with all of its intimate details. I asked him to look at me today to see if he could detect even a hint of my pain 18 years ago. He couldn’t because he recognized that God had changed my life and completely healed my emotional wounds. I tried to help Brian understand that he had the same potential with the same promise. Today’s situation is temporary; the pain will eventually pass. Folding his hand should not be his choice to make.
Brian once told me that his life and fate were inextricably intertwined with Andrea’s. He couldn’t imagine living without her. He would either spend his life with her, or he would fold his losing hand. A few days ago, Brian decided to fold. He sat in his truck, sad and depressed. Then, after visiting, calling, and text messaging friends and family to say goodbye, he took his own life. He applied a permanent solution to a temporary situation.
I tried to teach Brian that he always had other options; I told him I’d always be available to talk and listen. So while I didn’t succeed in preventing the inevitable, I don’t think my lessons failed either. On his last night, I was one person Brian did not call or visit. I can only conclude that Brian didn’t want to talk to me because he didn’t want to be dissuaded from his final decision.
If life is a poker game, then 18 years ago I discovered that life itself was the winning hand. Brian never imagined his life without Andrea, and so he decided to fold. Brian threw away the cards of great promise that lay ahead. It’s the same hand of great promise that I almost folded; and the same hand of great promise that lies ahead for all of us.
I was hoping to be the “David” in Brian’s life. Just as David helped me, I wanted to help Brian realize that life itself, even life without Andrea, was the winning hand. Folding was not our choice to make. Had I succumbed to my pain, then I would have never discovered the great promise that lay ahead for my life. I never would have met my wife, had my children or enjoyed my great happiness and success. And finally, I never would have had the privilege and honor of knowing Brian – a great friend whom I will miss very much.
