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 Content Rating Notice: Recommended for Readers 18 Years and Older Only |
| >> Static Item >> Prose >> Other >> ID #1293162 |   |
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Many of my immediate family have died through natural causes, illness, accident or suicide. Following are some of my thoughts concerning these events. Thoughts on Suicide and Death R.M. CARDIFF ENDS OWN LIFE FRIDAY Was County Clerk and Secretary of Dauphin Town School Board (Source: Dauphin Herald, Thursday June 28, 1934, page 1.) Culminating a lengthy search throughout a wide area around Dauphin, the body of R.M.Cardiff, County Court Clerk for Dauphin and secretary treasurer of the Dauphin school board, was discovered a few feet from his car on a by-road three miles south of town early Saturday morning. He had killed himself with a revolver, which was found on the spot. Cardiff's car was found about five o'clock Saturday morning by his brother, Robert, who had set out to search for him shortly before. R.C.M.P. officers were immediately notified, and on investigation found Cardiff in a bush near-by, a bullet hole drilled through his head. Dr. G.W. Rogers, coroner, has stated that it was a clear case of suicide, and that no inquest will be held. The deceased had not been in good health for some time, and it is probable that he took his life for this reason. The first indication that anything was the matter was given when Mr. Cardiff failed to return home for supper. He had last been seen leaving his office in the court house about 1:30 in the afternoon, and in the opinion of the coroner he shot himself shortly after this time. Investigation in the evening revealed that his office revolver was missing from its usual place, and search parties were immediately organized. However, no trace of the missing man was found until Saturday morning. My father, Philip Cardiff was 28 years old at the time and was haunted by this event for the rest of his life. He was ten years old when his mother died. Richard Mark re-married. My father hated his step-mother. In later years, after my mother died, Dad was suffering from chronic bronchitis which made breathing very difficult for him, especially in cold weather. Walking up a flight of stairs would require him to lie down for twenty minutes to catch his breath. This was due to fifty years of smoking. Even after he quit the sympoms remained; the damage had already been done. He became depressed, his tear ducts shut down, he would drink rum from morning until night and would often say that he wished he had the courage to put a gun to his head and end it all. My brother John had considered committing suicide when he was homeless and living in Calgary. He hadn't eaten for three days and was ready to jump off a bridge. Someone suggested that he join the army instead which was what he did. John had rather strange religious beliefs. He had read all the paperback writings of Lobsang Rampa who was later found out to be a British citizen named Cyril Hoskin who had been born in Plympton in Devon in 1910 and was the son of a plumber. Hoskin had never been to Tibet and spoke no Tibetan. In 1948, he had legally changed his name to Carl Kuon Suo before adopting the name Lobsang Rampa. According to the account given in his third book The Rampa Story, he had fallen out of a fir tree in his garden in Thames Ditton, Surrey while attempting to photograph an owl. He was concussed, and on regaining his senses had seen a Buddhist monk in saffron robes walking towards him. The monk spoke to him about Rampa taking over his body and Hoskin agreed, saying that he was dissatisfied with his current life. When Rampa's original body became too worn out to continue, he took over Hoskin's body. John didn't want others to be burdened with any expense in the event of his death. He told me that if he were to die I was to put his body in a large garbage bag and set it out with the trash. As it happened he aspirated on his own vomit in a hotel room in Toronto. He had consumed a lot of wine and aspirin and was recovering from a mugging. He wasn't found until three days later. I took John's death very hard, however, it was even more devastating for his son Bill. The circumstances surrounding his dad's death were never entirely clear and left a lot of questions unanswered. Bill visited Toronto, talked to the hotel staff about John's last days and slept in the room in which his dad had died. Bill was an alcoholic like his father and grandfather and found it very difficult to carry on. He told me he had considered suicide. He died of atherosclerosis, or hardening of the arteries at age 47. Bill's sister Debbie, once married to a biker from "Satan's Choice" also considered suicide. She later became a registered nurse and a cocaine addict. Her second husband was a heroin addict. I have attempted suicide and was taken to a hospital to have my stomach pumped. My reason at the time was that I wanted to go to sleep and not wake up. That was 45 years ago. Since then I have considered suicide, sometimes on a daily basis. Luckily I have sought professional help and now I am able to face each day as it comes and manage to survive to see another. The Kris Kristofferson song Help Me Make It Through The Night comes far too close to home for me. I sometimes think of it as my anthem. Hearing it always brings a shudder and tears to my eyes: Take the ribbon from your hair, Shake it loose and let it fall, Layin' soft upon my skin. Like the shadows on the wall. Come and lay down by my side till the early morning light All I'm takin' is your time. Help me make it through the night. I don't care what's right or wrong, I don't try to understand. Let the devil take tomorrow. Lord, tonight I need a friend. Yesterday is dead and gone and tomorrow's out of sight. And it's sad to be alone. Help me make it through the night. I don't care what's right or wrong, (Yes, I do !) I don't try to understand. Let the devil take tomorrow. Lord, tonight I need a friend. Yesterday is dead and gone and tomorrow's out of sight. Lord, it's bad to be alone. Help me make it through the night
© Copyright 2007 Dennis Cardiff (UN: dcardiff at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
Dennis Cardiff has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
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