The death of Isaac Outland is far more then just another suicide, it’s a sign of the times, an evocative sign of our times.

While what we all see through an open door too often is not indicative of that which we don’t see behind closed doors. During such divisive, trying, political, religious, financial and moral times, it seems humanity is seeping through the cracks and, if we aren’t careful, all that will remain is a pungent powder devoid of life.

I didn’t know Isaac very well. Perhaps, [I only] spent just a few hours with him over a weekend contemplating and planning a few of his exterior signs and sharing aspirations about his gallery. It doesn’t take much of a meeting to connect with another human, if we are just willing to do so.

People come into and out of our lives on a daily basis, just streams of light and faces, often passing by without a second thought.

I consider myself very empathetic, highly connected, bordering on what some may perceive as overtly sentient. So be it, it is this innate connection to people and events surrounding me that brings me the greatest joy and makes me a tremendously loyal friend and formidable foe in the names of those I hold close and dear.

Let Isaac’s choice and ultimate passing thereby serve to remind us that with every passing moment of every passing day, as a seemingly endless ocean of faces pass before us like short video clips, there is opportunity to reach out and connect — share a kind word, a warm sentiment, a humourous quip. Even such simple types of connection could make all the difference in the world to someone who has woken up in a very dark place and simply needs to be brought out by another person’s light.

As someone who battles much darkness and emotional fatigue, I know all too well the things which push me to the edge and, equally as well, the things which keep me from falling irretrievably over it. That edge is a hairpin turn which seems increasingly easy to careen toward at breakneck speed with dire consequences.

For certain, it is true that those who are left behind, the clean up crew, taking the sweepings of the lives broken and abandoned in their prime, bear the greatest burden of making sense of whatever it is that drives someone over the edge. As my own experiences, and those I have lived through others, have taught me, it is very easy to lose sight, lose our way in the dark and sail off the edge.

So take, if you will, a moment of your day, today, tomorrow and whatever else you have left to reach out to someone, for it is that connection that might one day prevent another soul on the edge from throwing itself off of it.

I care about each and every one of you in different ways and want us all to make the very most of the time we have left here — to share, to connect, to cry on one another’s shoulders, to gather into buckets the scatterings of laughter to be called upon in our saddest of moments.

Tere Quevedo
Idyllwild and Laguna Hills