This came up as a memory on Facebook from January 9, 2015. I was struggling, yet again, with another bout of depression.

 I’m not the greatest example when it comes to people seeing Jesus through my life…but I can’t stop believing in him. I just can’t help it. Maybe it’s because I’ve believed since I was about 9 so it’s a part of me? Maybe it’s because of the supernatural experiences I’ve had? Maybe it’s because of all the evidence I keep discovering through apologetics? I don’t know anymore. There are so many questions that I can’t answer. So many questions and hurts and disappointments that keep people from believing and I don’t understand why it has to be so hard if God wants us all to come to him. If we can’t believe unless God allows it how is that free will? I just don’t get it but, still, I can’t stop believing. Guess that’s why they call it faith. The fact that I’m so damn miserable doesn’t exactly help my cause, but Jesus is the only hope I have for when this shitty life comes to an end…and it will come to an end…it’s inevitable. I should be out there trying to help and encourage others but how can I when I feel like this? I’d only be a hypocrite. Now I understand why the bible speaks of perseverance and steadfastness when it comes to our faith in Christ…because it’s hard to stay positive in such a depressing world. Hopefully the joy will return to me soon because I seem to have lost it……AGAIN. If I had the money and a passport I’d go on a missions trip to fix my perspective, but I’m not sure seeing even more misery would help or just make it worse. Instead I guess I’ll just go wrap myself up in blankets and watch movies to temporarily forget about myself. I suppose I’m thankful that I can do that….some people don’t even have a cardboard box to call home. So I should shut up now.

When I scrolled through all of the comments I received from friends who wanted to reach out to me, I came across this one and it stung a bit. Why? Because he’s dead now. He was a cousin I had recently reunited with at my brother’s house. It was a Cantalupo family reunion of sorts.  Honestly, I didn’t know who Mike was but I liked him instantly. Here’s what he said to me on Facebook…

Mindy so sorry to hear that you are feeling so down…remember that a lot of people love you and care about how you feel and that we are all with you. Maybe you need a few days on Miami Beach to clear your head and if so you are welcome and have a place to stay. Also keep in mind your relationship with your doctor and that there are many new medications that can help you feel a lot better. I love you and you can call 24/7 (305) 479-7849.

The fact that he’s dead isn’t really the whole reason it stung a bit when I came across his comment. It’s HOW he died. You see, Mike killed himself. How ironic. He was trying to comfort me in a time of darkness and all the while I had no idea he had struggles of his own. I don’t know why he did it. I don’t know how he did it. All I know is I never called him. I never reached out to him. And now those opportunities are gone because he is gone.

I just wrote this on his timeline…

You tried to reach out to me on this day, 2 years ago. I was in a dark place and blurted it all out on Facebook for everyone to see. You responded with the sweetest heart. We had just met at the ‘Cantalupo Reunion’ and I liked you instantly. I want to thank you for trying to pull me up out of the pit I call depression. You invited me to come down to Miami and visit you…even gave me your number but I never called. If only I had known you had struggles of your own. Came across your comment of encouragement through the memories feed. It stung a bit because of the subject matter. It struck me a bit ironic minus the humor. I think we had more in common than I ever knew. Wish we could talk about it but, alas, you are gone. I hope we meet again someday. And I love you, too.

cantaluporeunion

Mike is the one in the mustard colored sweater. Next to him is my husband, Rick, and next to Rick is me.

 

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