Pat Archibald R.I.P.
I had a shift at the Cinematheque tonight filling in for one of the regular guys and I ran into an old aquaintance, the older brother of a kid I had been tight with in highschool.
Pat, my friend from highschool had come down with a severe depression and had battled with his mental illness a good deal after he graduated. we didn't stay in touch after I graded, I had my own troubles coming out of that part of my life and it wasn't until last year that I ran into him on the street that I started to learn more about what had happened to him after we parted company. He had been in and out of the hospital, on and off of his drugs and when I ran into him again he was living in a wellfare hotel off skid row. It was really hard for me to be around him and so I didn't try as hard as I could have to keep things going.
He had lost a few friends because of his psychiatric problems and I know that he needed people in his life who he could go to, people who would support and encourage him. I was too busy not being that person and I think I just took it for granted that there would be other people in his life who could be that for him. Now maybe this sounds like I'm blaming myself and in a way I guess I am. I know I wasn't the cause of his suicide but I certainly wasn't a reason for him to hold on, and that's a hard thing to accept without emotion.
Pat was a really amazing guitar player, and harmonica player. When I think of his playing I think of Jeff Buckley, he was good. I don't really know what else to say about all of this, I have a very clear image in mind of him, if I were the drawing type I'd probably be able to put it down on paper. His tall, lanky frame in ratty jeans and a maroon hoody that was perpetually unwashed. his stringy black hair and cigarette protruding from his mouth and a cheshire cat grin and glint in his eyes. He was like puck in highschool, we had law class together and would joke about our Lawbster teacher, the last few times I had seen him he was beaten down by life but still managed to retain some of that old magic.
Now he'll forever be 24 years old.
I never liked the official church teaching on suicide, to me it's not in keeping with the loving Father God, it's not in keeping with the Prince of Peace or with the idea of redemption. I suppose that to reject the notion of damnation for that would by extention be to reject the idea of hell.
I don't know what happens to people after they die. I have faith in an afterlife, I have faith in God as the just judge and I have faith in a resurection; but what the Lord decides to do with us in the end is not something I believe we are given to know. Dante is much to hard for my tastes. I would rather believe, or hope that in the end all people are judged not by how much hurt they have brought into the world but by how much love, how much good, how much happiness, I pray that it is in the light of this goodness that we are all finally redeemed and welcomed into the kingdom of heaven.
I read a speech recently in which the speaker described how justice is meeted out in a certain African tribe: the transgressor is brought into the centre of the village and all of the people in the village gather around him in a circle, they then begin to remind him of all the good things he or she has done, all of the happiness and the joy that person has brought to the other villagers. This can go on for days sometimes, and at the end of it that person is welcomed back into the community with great celebration. I pray that at the end of days we each get our chance to stand in such a circle and where we are reminded by everyone we've known of all the good we have done. I pray that I could be in this circle around Pat and that I could tell him of all the inspiration he has been and how much I have valued his friendship though I didn't always show it, I want to tell him that I am much richer for having known him, and I pray that the two of us can celebrate together in the kingdom of God.
Patric Archibald may God rest your troubled soul, your troubles, I pray, are at an end.
Pat, my friend from highschool had come down with a severe depression and had battled with his mental illness a good deal after he graduated. we didn't stay in touch after I graded, I had my own troubles coming out of that part of my life and it wasn't until last year that I ran into him on the street that I started to learn more about what had happened to him after we parted company. He had been in and out of the hospital, on and off of his drugs and when I ran into him again he was living in a wellfare hotel off skid row. It was really hard for me to be around him and so I didn't try as hard as I could have to keep things going.
He had lost a few friends because of his psychiatric problems and I know that he needed people in his life who he could go to, people who would support and encourage him. I was too busy not being that person and I think I just took it for granted that there would be other people in his life who could be that for him. Now maybe this sounds like I'm blaming myself and in a way I guess I am. I know I wasn't the cause of his suicide but I certainly wasn't a reason for him to hold on, and that's a hard thing to accept without emotion.
Pat was a really amazing guitar player, and harmonica player. When I think of his playing I think of Jeff Buckley, he was good. I don't really know what else to say about all of this, I have a very clear image in mind of him, if I were the drawing type I'd probably be able to put it down on paper. His tall, lanky frame in ratty jeans and a maroon hoody that was perpetually unwashed. his stringy black hair and cigarette protruding from his mouth and a cheshire cat grin and glint in his eyes. He was like puck in highschool, we had law class together and would joke about our Lawbster teacher, the last few times I had seen him he was beaten down by life but still managed to retain some of that old magic.
Now he'll forever be 24 years old.
I never liked the official church teaching on suicide, to me it's not in keeping with the loving Father God, it's not in keeping with the Prince of Peace or with the idea of redemption. I suppose that to reject the notion of damnation for that would by extention be to reject the idea of hell.
I don't know what happens to people after they die. I have faith in an afterlife, I have faith in God as the just judge and I have faith in a resurection; but what the Lord decides to do with us in the end is not something I believe we are given to know. Dante is much to hard for my tastes. I would rather believe, or hope that in the end all people are judged not by how much hurt they have brought into the world but by how much love, how much good, how much happiness, I pray that it is in the light of this goodness that we are all finally redeemed and welcomed into the kingdom of heaven.
I read a speech recently in which the speaker described how justice is meeted out in a certain African tribe: the transgressor is brought into the centre of the village and all of the people in the village gather around him in a circle, they then begin to remind him of all the good things he or she has done, all of the happiness and the joy that person has brought to the other villagers. This can go on for days sometimes, and at the end of it that person is welcomed back into the community with great celebration. I pray that at the end of days we each get our chance to stand in such a circle and where we are reminded by everyone we've known of all the good we have done. I pray that I could be in this circle around Pat and that I could tell him of all the inspiration he has been and how much I have valued his friendship though I didn't always show it, I want to tell him that I am much richer for having known him, and I pray that the two of us can celebrate together in the kingdom of God.
Patric Archibald may God rest your troubled soul, your troubles, I pray, are at an end.
posted by Chris Rooney | 11:46 PM
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