Pastabagel on Partial Objects has an analysis of Mark Rife, a man who counted down the last thousand days of his life. Mark’s wife Sarah was injured when she fell in a waterfall. She recovered, then six months later, she died in her sleep. One night while watching the Leo di Caprio version of Romeo & Juliet, she pondered the question, “If Romeo had waited a thousand days, would he still want to die?”
The question stuck with Mark after his wife’s death. He wanted to die from the grief, but because of his wife’s question, he vowed to live for 1,000 days trying to find meaning in his life. He blogged his venture though Tumblr has removed his blog.
He didn’t find the meaning he sought and ultimately killed himself. His brother’s response to his suicide can be found here. Other people have spoken out about it, and a lot of them say that if he’d kept his faith (he was a pastor) then he wouldn’t have killed himself.
Those people, to me, miss the entire point of his death. I’ll just leave it at that.
I think it was weird for him to document his last one thousand days, though I understand the compulsion. There have been times when it felt like I have nothing but the internet – the ringing vacant mass of people I don’t know but who read my words anyway. And they seem much easier to confess certain things to than anyone else. And there have been times there simply wasn’t anyone else.
I think Mark wanted to leave something of himself – that blog – because he wasn’t even sure he existed anymore. I think Mark was not the attention whore that some accuse him of being. I think he was in a great deal of pain, very confused, and he knew the outcome of his journey before he took the first step.
I have nothing but respect for a person who so chooses to live his life on his own terms.
“If he kept his faith, he wouldn’t have killed himself.”
Oh, please. I can’t stand that mindset. Faith is faith. It’s not a panacea. There have been many times where the scales in my life have tipped in favor of despair over faith, where despair has just WEIGHED more for a time. It’s a retarded argument. I mean, I could say to these same people, “Uhm, if you kept your faith, you wouldn’t have just lied to your boss about being sick.” “If you kept your faith, you wouldn’t be having an affair with the neighbor.” Come on. You can make that blanket statement about any of the taboos in life. Sure, if you kept faith perfectly every moment of every day, I guess you wouldn’t do those things; however, you also wouldn’t be human. Humans struggle, fail, despair. It’s part of the package of who we ARE.
I’m convinced that faith works differently in different people according to their mental/emotional makeup. There are those who would have people believe that faith and the practice of faith creates the same kind of people across the board, but I neither believe that nor embrace that — which I why I don’t fit well in the “institutional” church. God creates all this diversity only to want us to all be the same? No. I call BS.
Maybe this man was a melancholic at heart. Maybe faith was a struggle. Maybe despair just weighed more heavily than faith for a season and he ended up making this choice. But, really, only God knows what his particular scales and his particular demons were.
I’m not trying to say “Yay, I think it’s great he killed himself.” I’m saying it’s dark and complicated and way beyond these people who insist that faith is a constantly sunshiney place.
Thank you for that . You just expressed something I was too timid to write about.
Look I’m saying “do what the bible said and don’t kill yourself”
But I have try to kill myself more than once. Now, joke about ( that e-mail sent you about John switt) because that how I my heard on. I have been the that place were death is better than tomorrow or six moth form now. But, now I don’t know. I hated being depress so much and could tell anyone about it. I just ingored it( my depression) and became ashaned because I did not have a reason for my sadness that I want to face so I just willed myself to be prefect. It got to the point were I honsety ” killing yourself was normal”. After I tried and faited with 18 OTC sleeping I just guess my bravery come back. Look, I know that the ” face your fears, it get better” I not the point got everyone. But now, I know I want and i been given a chance to use my paint to help others.
I have accepted that when my life ends it with problably with sleeping pills and a glass of cherry. But, want live now and fall in love, and help people. I am mad that I’m not perfect and I still want to be, but trying use my failure to my advage.
Look, live is a short tip in te and we are going to spent after life some where. And there some much we do not get to chose. Where we leave life should be one thing we do have a say in, yet chose wisely there is no door number two.
I not saying that biblical advice is for every one. Maybe I should myself because I’m fucking literati and I can’t spell
I been watching Mark videos. I was wrong. He is oddly indpirening I think that kinda the point: how many just exist and then die. As a post to living and dying with pace?