Out of the Darkness (part 2)

Sorry for the much longer than anticipated delay in penning the second part. Quite a bit has happened between then and now, and I'll touch on that in a different post... or three... (as I said, quite a bit has happened), but I did want to finish recounting the experience we had at the walk in November. 

So where was I? Ah, yes, the beginning. Of the walking part of the walk that is. 
There we were, a small horde; some protected by umbrellas and raincoats (we fell under this category), some bravely donning just their clothes, sans waterproof outer layer of any sort, all drawn together for a similar reason.

In the time before the actual walking part of the walk began, people milled about. Some (like us) enjoyed the very generous hot coffee and tea and snacks while standing under a tent, while some checked out other vendors who were there in support as well. But there was something every different about this gathering I noticed. It was so incredibly diverse. 

When I've done races, while there is some diversity, everyone sorta looks the same. Yes, different ages, races, ethnicity, but everyone pretty much fit into the "racer" mold. We all had on similar running attire, basically the same demeanor, and of course, the race bibs. 

But this group was anything but cookie cutter. I kept looking around and saw, well, everyone. All ages, races, identities. Everyone. It hit me like a brick wall just how indiscriminate suicide is. I remember telling Josef that this acknowledgement was both comforting and heartbreaking. Which is fitting, because the emotions that surround suicide are incredibly confusing and contradictory. 

Umbrellas in hand, making our way through a soggy (weather and eyed) Boston morning.

So off we went, our beautiful sundry of those all affected by suicide in one way or another, walking together in the rain. Man, that sounds poetically depressing, but by the end, it was quite the opposite. 
As we started, there was an odd hush that happened throughout the group. Not that we were expected to march in silence, but it almost felt as if collectively we all took the first block or so to acknowledge and reflect why we were there. I know I was struck by quite a strong wave of emotion when I really thought about what brought us there that day. And as I glanced around I could see I was far from the only one with a wet face not caused by the rain. 

Over the course of the walk, moods evolved. There was laughter, even some singing, people reminiscing lost loved ones favorite times or events they remembered by sights or sounds along the way, but my favorite was this adorable little girl, skipping, or swinging by those two holding her hands throughout the walk. 

I noticed her and those with her while we were waiting to start. My heart ached for all three of them because, although I didn't know their story, I knew that that young lady already had a very grown up thing in her life. Something that me, someone easily at least three times her age doesn't even quite fully understand. 

So on we walked, or in polka dot girls case, skipped and puddle jumped, for about a mile or so, in the rain. But then, just like every movie or book, as we reached the end, the rain finally stopped, and the sun finally decided to make an appearance.

Afterward there were some hugs exchanged between strangers and friends alike in the square where we started, and slowly everyone dispersed. While I preferred to stay more on the periphery, it was oddly comforting knowing there is this community. A community I never thought I'd be part of, but none the less, I am. 

If you would like more information or would like to participate in an Out of the Darkness community walk near you, please click HERE