Rerun: My Good Friend Kevin

In honor of World Suicide Prevention Day ...

Eight years ago, I was facilitating a DBSA support group in Princeton, NJ. In walked Kevin, exuding a goofy charm, baseball cap on backward. But there was something about his presence that indicated he was no mere goofball. The others in the room felt it, too.

Over the weeks, I couldn't help but be impressed by the way Kevin carried himself. He would walk up to newcomers and introduce himself and start up a conversation. In the group, he was a great listener, dispensing the wisdom of a sage, leavened by a keen sense of humor.

It was amazing to observe him with people much older. At once, he was deferential, compassionate, and exuding great authority. You simply forgot you were talking to someone much younger. You simply wanted to be around him, laugh with him, seek advice from him.

He had his setbacks, his dark moments. Yet, over time - in group, over coffee, over sandwiches, hanging out - I watched him blossom. With his extraordinary people skills, the sky was the limit.

In late 2006, my marriage broke up. Kevin was the first to offer me support. He also reached out to my then-wife.

Suddenly, I had my life in seven or eight FedEx cartons and a one-way ticket to San Diego. I popped into the DBSA group one last time. Kevin was facilitating. He gave me a heartfelt tribute. I felt the goodness in the man. Goodness, true goodness. That was the last time I saw him alive.

He had so much to live for, so much to offer. Yet, on a miserable muggy New Jersey morning - almost exactly three years ago today - his brain tricked him into believing otherwise. He was 28. Three years later, all those he left behind are still dealing with it.

I've been suicidal. So have a lot of us. We fully understand, yet - we totally don't understand.

Kevin, you still shine a light on the world. Nothing - nothing - is ever going to extinguish it.

Rerun: My Good Friend Kevin

In honor of World Suicide Prevention Day ...

Seven years ago, I was facilitating a DBSA support group in Princeton, NJ. In walked Kevin, exuding a goofy charm, baseball cap on backward. But there was something about his presence that indicated he was no mere goofball. The others in the room felt it, too.

Over the weeks, I couldn't help but be impressed by the way Kevin carried himself. He would walk up to newcomers and introduce himself and start up a conversation. In the group, he was a great listener, dispensing the wisdom of a sage, leavened by a keen sense of humor.

It was amazing to observe him with people much older. At once, he was deferential, compassionate, and exuding great authority. You simply forgot you were talking to someone much younger. You simply wanted to be around him, laugh with him, seek advice from him.

He had his setbacks, his dark moments. Yet, over time - in group, over coffee, over sandwiches, hanging out - I watched him blossom. With his extraordinary people skills, the sky was the limit.

In late 2006, my marriage broke up. Kevin was the first to offer me support. He also reached out to my then-wife.

Suddenly, I had my life in seven or eight FedEx cartons and a one-way ticket to San Diego. I popped into the DBSA group one last time. Kevin was facilitating. He gave me a heartfelt tribute. I felt the goodness in the man. Goodness, true goodness. That was the last time I saw him alive.

He had so much to live for, so much to offer. Yet, on a miserable muggy New Jersey morning - almost exactly three years ago today - his brain tricked him into believing otherwise. He was 28. Three years later, all those he left behind are still dealing with it.

I've been suicidal. So have a lot of us. We fully understand, yet - we totally don't understand.

Kevin, you still shine a light on the world. Nothing - nothing - is ever going to extinguish it.

My Friend Kevin - Looking Back

The end of the year is both a time of looking back and looking ahead. So it is that I am reflecting on my friend Kevin Greim, who, on a miserable muggy New Jersey morning in September, 2008, threw himself in front of a train. He was 28.

Five years ago, I was facilitating a DBSA support group in Princeton, NJ. In walked Kevin, exuding a goofy charm, baseball cap on backward. But there was something about his presence that indicated he was no mere goofball. The others in the room felt it, too.

As we grew closer, he began opening up to me. Kevin was a Jehovah’s Witness. It was a faith he had arrived at rather one he was born into. As he explained to me and others, his faith provided handrails. His life now had purpose, direction. His ultimate goal was to do full-time missionary work.

But he had his setbacks, his dark moments. And his illness, his illness ...

I recall a long conversation with him over coffee, in which he recounted to me a number of difficulties he was dealing with on the missionary path.

Life as a missionary wasn’t meant to be easy, I responded sympathetically, especially if you are God’s chosen. I paraphrased a key passage from Second Corinthians for him as best as I could:

"Thrice was I beaten with rods, once was I stoned, thrice I suffered shipwreck, a night and a day I have been in the deep."

Paul was on a mission, literally a mission from God. His first two Letters - Romans and First Corinthians - reflect the optimism of one with God on his side: confident, bossy, out to change the world.

Second Corinthians, written many years later, reflects a different Paul: weary and disenchanted, struggling to keep his faith. Acts of the Apostles reports Paul being set upon and left for dead by a mob in Antioch and at the mercy of another in Ephesus.

My take, as I related to Kevin went like this: Here’s God telling Paul in effect, “You presume to act in My name, well then ... let's see how sincere you are after a mob has tried to crack open your skull, you find yourself holding on for dear life to a piece of boat in the open sea, your friends have turned on you, your followers have abandoned you, and your love is returned in endless measure with unbridled hate.”

It's not in God's nature to make things easy, I went on to tell Kevin. You want an easy life, then do something easy. You want to accomplish something, well don't expect any breaks. The nature of things is that you will be tested.

Of all things, my bleak little homily had the effect of cheering Kevin up. I think my friend felt that he alone was responsible for his own difficulties. Having his mettle tested by God was an entirely different proposition.

Kevin, in turn, told me something I did not know: In Nazi Germany and elsewhere in Europe, the Witnesses stood up to Hitler. At great risk to their own personal freedom and safety, they befriended Jews, they patronized Jewish businesses. Ultimately, 12,000 were sent to the camps, where 2,000 died. A purple triangle on their prison garb identified them by their religion.

I thought of other faiths that had virtually rolled over and played dead for Hitler. These Witnesses had guts, I could only think. 

Kevin is gone. But today, thanks to my friend, you are reading something positive about Jehovah’s Witnesses, perhaps for the first time in your life. I like to think that Kevin succeeded in his mission.