: If Only . . . by: Rick Beneteau She was about 30 years old. A pretty woman to me. She had several lines of deep scars on her face that I assumed were the result of severe injuries caused by a car accident. Or worse, an

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If Only . . .

by: Rick Beneteau

She was about 30 years old. A pretty woman to me. She had several lines of deep scars on her face that I assumed were the result of severe injuries caused by a car accident. Or worse, an attack. This disturbed me.
I noticed her from my balcony within days of moving in to my highrise, walking 2 little white dogs around the block. She was always alone, always with a look of deep sadness on her face.
I must have ran into her at least twenty times during my year-and-a- quarter of living here, on the elevator or on the grounds of our building, each time trying to engage her in conversation - about the weather, her dogs, anything to try to get her to at least, smile.
Never once did she smile though, or answer me with more than a couple of words. After each attempt, I just left her with my smile, and let it go.
Like you I'm sure, I have been face-to-face with people that have been deeply depressed. In my heart of hearts, I knew she was. Without knowing anything about her, I could only surmise that whatever had happened in her life to cause this disfigurement was the reason. Perhaps shallow of me, but I couldn't even imagine looking in the mirror each day to see such hideous physical devastation.
On Monday of last week, I proceeded out the main doors of my building to go on my morning walk. I noticed 2 police cars and a forensics van in the visitors parking lot. My mind began to wonder as to what this could possibly have been about. I concluded that perhaps an elderly tenant had passed away, and promptly forgot about it.
On the following Friday, I discovered the truth. I saw one of the building managers who had just returned from a funeral - the funeral of this young woman.
She had done what was unperceivable to me - she took her own life.
I was shaken. I learned in that conversation that her scars were the result of surgery, for cancer. I became deeply disturbed.
Truth is, I had thought so many times that I should invite this woman for a coffee, or for a walk in the sculpture park below of our building. Something where some friendly conversation could 'break the ice' and hopefully have her smile. Even just a single time. I have a gift where I can make most people smile:-) In retrospect though, I can only now imagine that she had a great smile.
But I will never know. Because, as many times as I thought to make this overture, never once did I act upon it. And being that I have been blessed to have been in a position many times in my life to have 'been there' for people who were depressed, and even suicidal, I again, did NOT ACT UPON IT.
Guilty? Yes, I am.
Of course, I cannot afford to even begin to blame myself, a total stranger to her, for what she felt she ultimately had no choice to do. On the other hand, I could have chosen to do something, and act upon my desire to at least try to help.
The obvious questions arise. Would she have accepted my invitation to a coffee shop, or for a walk down the trail? If she did, could I have made even a small difference in her life and actually see her smile -- at least once? That, would have been wonderful to me. Or, could I have made even a small impact that would have ultimately led to, well, her deciding NOT swallow the overdose of medicine that she did?
Thing is, I will never know, because I chose NOT TO ACT. Too busy, of course. Too many other things going on in my personal life. Too many other things going on in the lives I was close to. Too busy in my business life.
If I can take away one lesson with me from this dark experience, it is the one I wish to share with you -- when your intuition tells you to do something not only once, but many times, ACT UPON IT. Your intuition is your biggest friend, whether you know it now, or not.
It honestly hurts to know that I did nothing to follow up on my own intuition in this sad, sad case. It is even sadder to know that I never even knew the name of this pretty woman.
I dislike, and try to hardly ever use, the word, "if". It is usually used in context with a negative circumstance. In this case though, I can now only wonder would have happened, "If Only . . ."

© Rick Beneteau