Green Street

"In most cases, suicide is a solitary event and yet it has often far-reaching repercussions for many others. It is rather like throwing a stone into a pond; the ripples spread and spread."
-ALISON WERTHEIMER, "A Special Scar"

This is not the blog post I had planned to write tonight.

The post I had intended to write was a frivolous one about my 10 most favorite things.

But, that post will have to wait, as there is something else on my mind.

After working a few hours this morning, I came home and caught a quick nap before heading out to meet Briana, Ryan and Dylan for lunch.

Briana also worked this morning. When she was finished, she called to say she was on her way over to the restaurant. Ryan and Dylan, who had been at a local park, would also be heading over to meet us. So, I rolled out of bed and started the short drive over to Green St, anticipating a Tartintino's special with pepperoni and olives.

As I was driving, I got a call from Ryan saying that there had been some kind of accident in front of the restaurant and that the street was blocked off. He wanted to warn me so I could find other parking.


I found a side street and came through the back of the restaurant. I didn't see Briana or Ryan at any of the tables. So, I went out the door to see if they were waiting for me on the sidewalk out front.
On initial glance, I didn't see either Ryan or Briana.


Across the street from the restaurant, I saw a gathering of people standing in front of a hair salon. There were policeman and assorted emergency vehicles lined up along the curb.

I was about to use my cell phone to call Briana when I spotted her across the street, talking to a police officer.


I waited for the light to turn green and walked across the street to where they were standing. As I came up to the corner, I could see an enormous amount blood all over the sidewalk. That's when I began to realize she had, once again, been witness to something no one should have to see. Let alone twice.


Thoughts of last December, flashed through my head. The night she watched a man die on the side the road after a car accident. She couldn't have seen another incident like that, could she?

I was just wrapping my head around that thought when I heard her say to the policewoman that she had given chest compressions.

Chest compressions?

I had hoped she was just telling the officer that she had been across the street and that maybe she saw the car. Maybe she got the license plate number of the vehicle that hit this person.

The person whose blood was now running down the curb and into the gutter.

But, no. This person wasn't hit by a car. He had jumped from the upper floor of the building.

Briana had just pulled into a parking place when she saw the commotion. She raced over to see if she could help.

There was an MD in the hair salon, and the two of them began CPR.
Their efforts went unrewarded.

I can hardly comprehend the emotions going through my friend's mind. A mixture of sadness, confusion and disbelief.

And, anguish over not being able to save him.

I want her to know how proud I am of her. She did what most of the people on that street didn't do. She did what I'm not entirely sure I would do.
She tried to save the life of a stranger.

And, while she berates herself for not doing more, you know what I'm thinking?

She was a hero today.