THE UNEXPECTED

It was a lovely day in Vancouver and we were looking forward to a visit to Granville Island to explore the market, examine and be awed by the vintage boat show, relax and stroll around in the perfect weather.

The water taxi carried us to our destination and we scrambled up the steps and began our tour. The flowers were intoxicating, the arts and crafts didn't disappoint, the booths were endless it seemed with exceptional art, food, crafts, coffees....you name it!

As be began to make our way down to the water taxi station suddenly a sound rang out like a cannon had been shot. I twirled around to find my husband. Was it a gun? Was it part of a show? What was that noise?

Then everyone was screaming and pointing toward the water before us. There was the body of a gentleman floating on top of the water with his shoes next to him. I was trying to take it all in. Then my husband pulled me close. He had seen him hit the water and his shoes fly off. He had jumped from the bridge above us, a very tall bridge.

"But let's do something! Let's swim out to him! Maybe he's not gone yet! Somebody help!" These were mine and others near me, words. But the people in charge of the water taxi tried to help everyone understand the Coast Guard was on the way and we were not to jump in the water. One man was furious screaming at the young girl, "Why won't you motor out to the man and pull him out of the water? Why won't someone do something before the Coast Guard gets here?" He was storming up the stairs back to the market.

I returned my gaze to the man right there before us. He was whiter than white, no sign of air movement, just slightly bobbing there now next to the edge of the island. We were urged to get on our taxi. The young lady suddenly broke down and starting sobbing and sobbing. I pulled her close and said, "It's not your fault that the man was so mad. He didn't know who else to yell at.  You were doing your job. All we can do now is pray for that dear man's soul as his angels escort him home where he will find the healing he so desperately was perhaps seeking on this side."

We got on our taxi boat and decided to pray as we passed the body as the Coast Guard was arriving and moving near him to pull him onto their boat. We prayed for him, for the young girl, for the crowd, for the man's family and friends. And then we did our very best to continue our day.

It took me hours to snap out of it. And then days, many days, before I quit seeing him.

I don't know the specific statistics on suicide but even one is too many it seems to me. These dear people cannot see any light at the end of their tunnel for whatever reason and are seeking relief.

My brother had a NDE a year before he died with cancer.  In that NDE a very dear friend of his who had committed suicide just the year before, appeared to my brother smiling, along with our Mother. It wasn't time for my brother to stay.

But, seeing his friend there, smiling, in the Light gave my brother a new hope. There are other stories of those who say they have been to Heaven and that those who do commit suicide are received by loving angels who escort them to a special place of healing. I cannot prove that, but I like the sound of it.

I looked for the incident in the newspaper the next morning and watched the local news to see if he had been identified. Nothing ever was said. I wanted to know if he was younger than he looked, and if he had a family, or if he had been ill, or....?? "The conversation rambled in my head and my heart, "Who are you? I am so sorry?"  I asked the hotel concierge about this.  They said that it is, sadly, not uncommon for people to jump from their very tall bridges there. They said that perhaps the authorities have decided its best not to report these tragedies on the news for many reasons.

Vancouver is one of my very favorite places to visit. It will continue to be so.  The unexpected arrives in front of us all over the globe sometimes.  But so does random sheer joy, sunsets that seem heavenly painted, a hug that melts our hearts... It's called Life.