In October of 2016, Stockton held a suicide awareness walk, during which participants walked from Lakeside Lodge to the Campus Center. Though it was a phenomenal event, and it served its purpose at raising awareness, I’m not writing about the walk itself, because I did not attend.
The walk started at 6 o’clock, and I was just returning from a Philly trip with the honors college. At around 6:40, I received a call from my close friend, Michelle. Unable to decipher her words in between her sobs, I asked for her location and ran to that point. She had been attending the suicide walk, and her memories had flooded in to haunt her at the worst time possible. In the middle of the suicide walk, Michelle broke down in my arms and shared a story about her cousin who, at a young age, took his own life.
The festivities the walk entailed were no match for Michelle’s emotional breakdown, and why should they be? No amount of activity and loud noises can remedy the heartbreak caused by losing a loved one, especially by such means.
The suicide walk benefited me even though I didn’t attend. It gave me insight into the mind of someone who is now one of my best friends. I would not have achieved that level of our friendship by any other means. Stockton University’s main goal of the suicide walk was to raise awareness of a global problem that is too often overlooked. Well, it surely affected me in the best way possible.