A few years back, I worked with a guy who I came to like. The barometer by which I judge co-workers is whether I’d want to work with them again… and in his case, he’d be the first guy I’d call. He’s brilliant – by far, the smartest person I’ve worked with. Scary smart.
And he does a killer Bill Clinton impression, which was so unexpected the first time I heard it that I nearly drove off the road. (It’s Phil Hartman-esque. It’s really that good.)
Anyway, we lost touch. I tried to stay in touch, even went so far as to write his Dad, who’s a professor at a major university. I sent e-mails, left voicemails… but he just fell off the map.
Several months ago I’d heard he’d been very sick – and whatever bitterness I felt about not hearing from him was overcome by sympathy. I wrote him again. Still nothing. Eventually I concluded he didn’t want to stay in touch. I wrote him off.
Tonight I found out that the sickness was a result of a suicide attempt.
Be well, friend. And write if you get a chance.