My friend, Joe

This week has just been the pits, really.

Back before I met Mark, I was involved with an organization called the Long Beach Jay Cees. I was elected to the board to do community type events. Early on, I had a run in with the president, and needless to say, my efforts with the Jay Cees ended with her ultimatum to me: my way or the highway. Not one to bow down to someone I don't agree with, I took the highway. While on board, I met an Irishman named Joe Kelly. He was here from Ireland, had been married to an American, but their marriage ended up in a nasty divorce. He was working with the Long Beach Symphony, and had managed to get us in to see a couple shows. When I parted the Jay Cees, Joe parted as well. Turns out he didn't take kindly to bullies either, and voila, a friendship was formed. Joe needed a volunteer, and I needed a new cause. So I started volunteering with the symphony. I would arrive before the show started, sit at a table, and do whatever it was that Joe needed me to do. Usually, I answered questions, passed out pamphlets, or gave directions. Joe would go off, doing whatever it was that he did, visiting with patrons, and making sure all was well. Every once in a while, he would come over and whisper to me about such and such patron who was a big wig in the community. Or we'd gawk at the outrageous outfits. But we certainly had a good time. I think I was with them for about 2 years while Joe was there.

Then Joe was fired.

I was horrified. I couldn't believe that they could treat him so horribly. I got an email with the horrible news, and I put Mark to work. One of his friends is an employment lawyer, and I was on a mission to right Joe's wrong. The person who did this - and I do remember who he is - was going rue the day he'd messed with my friend Joe, who worked so hard for so very little. And he was fired for no reason other than he'd asked for a raise. Joe decided he didn't want to pursue the legal path, but it didn't stop me. I didn't go back to volunteer with them. I did go back to Crescendo (their big fundraiser) a few times while Joe also volunteered. But I didn't go to performances, nor did I volunteer for the aforementioned person who fired Joe. Jerk.

So, Joe and I didn't get to see one another for some time after that. We'd talk sometimes, or we'd email. We connected on myspace. I'd get the occasional joke, or I'd forward one off.

On Monday morning, I sat at my desk, and opened up my email. Never in my wildest imagination would I have guessed what was waiting for me. Never could I have guessed what I was preparing to read. Nothing prepared me for it.

It was just before 9 am. I opened my email, and deleted one facebook message. The next email, I opened, was from my friend, Joe Kelly. And this is how it started, "Dear Friends, By the time you are reading this, I will have left this earth, and hopefully my soul will have passed to a better place."

At first, I thought it was some kind of joke, or maybe one of those inspirational emails. But the flags were waving and the buzzing was going in my head.

Joe was telling us, there were several on the email, that we were receiving this email because we somehow made a difference in his life. He goes on to try and explain why he has decided to take his own life. He talks about being broken, emotionally and spiritually. And my head, as I am reading, is just reeling. Because, this can't be real, and it can't be happening. My friend, Joe, the fun loving Irishman, who cracked me up with stories of his cat, Dickens, can NOT be telling me that he's going to kill himself. Right? I mean, that's not reality. Is it?

Unfortunately, it was reality. It was cold reality. I had no idea what to do. After reading it, Mark came online, and I frantically IM'd him (praying that he wouldn't be too busy to respond). "Mark, Joe Kelly is going to kill himself - what do I do??". Mark told me to call the police and give them as much information as I could.

Now I was on a mission. "It's not too late", I told myself over and over, "he'll be fine, and we'll find him, and I'll fly home this weekend if I have to talk sense into him.. and he's just crying out for help.. we'll find him.. it's not too late".

This is the conversation I had with Officer Alvarez from the LAPD:

OA: Does Joseph have a middle name?
me: I don't think so, but I don't know.
OA: OK. What's his address?
me: I don't know - he used to live in San Pedro somewhere.
OA: Do you know where?
me: No, I've never been there.
OA: OK. What's his phone number?
me: I don't know.
OA: What's his birthday?
me: I don't know.
OA: What kind of car does he drive?
me: I don't know.
OA: Ma'am, you're not giving us a lot to go on, what do you know?
me: I know that my friend Joe sent me an email that he's going to kill himself, that's what I do know.

After several phone calls with Officer Alvarez at the LAPD, it was confirmed that Joe did, in fact, commit suicide. He did it at the Fort MacArthur Museum in San Pedro. He had been living in Pasadena.

In the midst of all this, I was at work. I had to get some projects done. But I just couldn't function. People would come over to talk to me, and I just couldn't process what they had said. My friend, Joe, was all alone, and he was dead, and I just couldn't process that. I couldn't wrap my brain around it. I re-read his email dozens of times. Others on the email train began writing back - had anyone heard anything, is it true, what's the status, etc. Then it turned to questions of a memorial and his family, and what will happen to his new kitty, Vibi (turns out Dickens must have passed, because he didn't have him anymore - another tidbit I didn't know).

Mostly, all the what-ifs come out. What if I had been a better friend to him? What if I called more often? What if I knew his birthday? What if .. What if.. What if.. Your head tells you, there is nothing that can be done. He was in such a place where this was his last resort, and he was going to do it no matter what, and no one could have stopped him.

But my heart tells a completely different story. How could I not know his birthday, or his phone number? What kind of friend doesn't know that basic information? My heart aches for this person that I thought I was friend to, but I really wasn't. No, maybe I didn't drive him to this, he obviously had a lot going on that I didn't know about. But I can't help but be tortured. Every night this week, I go to sleep, thinking about my friend Joe. I just don't understand the pain he was in. I can't fathom feeling that alone, or feeling the need to take myself out of this world. I just don't get that. And I'm angry with Joe for doing this. For sending me an email telling me he was leaving, and I don't get any say. I'm angry at myself for not making his friendship more of a priority.

And wouldn't you know it. I'm feeling sad on the drive home from work on Tuesday, and I've worked myself into a real tizzy, and guess who calls? My BFF, Barry. "Hey, haven't heard from you, and I just want to see how you're doing". I mean really - someone's hand was in that act of friendship. And so I unloaded on Barry - everything that happened, and how I was feeling, and what was going on. And Barry just listened. Because that's what Barry does. He just takes it all in, and once you're ready, he'll tell you what you need to hear. Maybe that's what Joe was trying to teach me - keep up with others.

Because you never know when they won't be there.

So now, I end with a pause to my friend, Joseph Martin Kelly. I stop and remember the hilarious light up antlers he wore at the holiday show every year. I remember having dinner with him at the Auld Dubliner. I remember the crazy stories he told, like when they were building up downtown Long Beach, and all the toilets were on balconies of the new high rise apartments. The stories of Dickens, who attacked Joe quite frequently, but picked the winners of the email drawings by sitting on the winning entry. I remember this man for the funny, interesting person that I shared talks with. And I thank God for blessing me with my short time with him.

Maybe now, Joe you will find peace. And now you know, you were never broken, and you never needed to be fixed.