Jason Beazley took his own life a few short weeks ago for reasons that left us wringing our hands and scratching our heads in between sessions of grieving and consoling the friends we shared. Speculation has run rampant. We have questioned why a person who was so monumental on campus, who personally touched so many people (how about spending a few hours a day most days to keep in touch via email with the many individuals he valued?) would commit an act which he surely knew would hurt these very same people, including his two younger sisters and loving parents. Clearly, it wasn't about us, this much is certain. He cared too much to want to cause anyone pain, even those he didn't like (were there any?). I would guess that it was about something that most of us barely understood, a side of him that we may have picked up on in small doses in between the margins of his vibrant daily life but didn't recognize as a source of total self-destruction. Perhaps something very painful lurked beneath the surface of his passions. Perhaps it even fueled many of his creative endeavors and accomplishments. "Why didn't he tell someone about it?" some of us ask. Maybe he loved life so much that he didn't want to be a drag on those he cared about, didn't want to unload his burdens onto the people who inspired him. Or maybe he simply didn't have the words to express what he felt. For me, these have been recurring questions.
Any of these theories may be true. It's also quite possible that they're completely false. I have heard others posit that Jason must have thought, "This isn't for me. I need to go." Indeed, this seems to be the attitude expressed on his facebook page, which he updated mere moments before his final act. I have also wondered if Jason felt that life wasn't big enough for him. As I told one of my former roommates via email:
I had my own hypothesis about why our friend did this to himself: life was not big enough for Jason Beazley. Even after all of his successes, all of his meaningful relationships, all of his artistic expressions, he emerged just as large of a giant as he was when it all began for him. From this lonely vantage point, perhaps, Jason surveyed the part of the world he had taken part in after years of effort and struggle and realized that no matter how much the terrain beneath him shifted, no matter how much he caused positive change and strove for excellence, he would never be satisfied. Perhaps he felt that he would never be truly understood.In the end, it is all truly speculation. Who, but God, can truly understand the depths of a single soul other than those of one's own (assuming even that is possible)? Despite this, for me, there has been a huge lesson which has emerged in the form of Jason himself to address me personally through all of this: give, give some more, do not hold back whatsoever, do not be afraid to present yourself in your fullest capacity to those who are around you. In doing so, you give them permission to do the same. When you receive, do not be afraid to immediately reciprocate. Finally, and most importantly, do not wait: life is short. Give now.
As I stated earlier, Jason's outgoing spirit initially made me uncomfortable - it did seem too good to be true. What could he want from me? However, the fact that he kept it up demonstrated to me that he wasn't afraid to express how much he liked me, my music (he even called me to tell me how much it meant to him), my blog (wrote me an email asking if he could use an entry in a book/script he was working on), all given regardless of the response he got. He gave me a script he had written to see what I thought (never did read it), a friend's hip-hop CD he had creative input on (got around to it a week before he passed but never called him to talk about it). I remember two and a half years ago, when I was an RA in Best C, he came over with his girlfriend (soon-to-be fiance) to talk to me about ideas he had for starting a conference on entertainment and ethics, in which he wanted me to have a significant role. He was going to bring in the rapper Sage Francis, with whom he apparently kept up healthy correspondence. He even followed me on walks so that we could keep the discussion going. I was amazed at his girlfriend's patience.
For sure, we did eventually become closer. We spoke countless times at parties about how we needed to hang out one-on-one. He even went on the same South Africa trip with Teri Murphy the year after I did, and we were really excited about discussing it. I have an email from him in which he expressed that we NEEDED to hang out more in the coming year. He was going to be one of the fifth-year super-senior posse, a fact which brought me great comfort. Eventually, I was going to give back to him. Soon, I would put in the effort to make absolutely certain that we spent some time together. We had just about reached the level of very close friends; we were right on the cusp. These past few weeks, I can't help but wonder what difference it would have made to him on that terrible night to know for certain that there was one more person out there, wanting to understand him deeply and to conspire with him to craft new music, forge new paths, create change in the confusing world we shared. It was this thought at the funeral, blaring at me as I looked at the table of happy pictures and Jason-quotes, which caused me to have to leave the building and privately break down. Why hadn't I reciprocated sooner?
In the end, I am not overwhelmed with guilt. To do so would be narcissistic, to have an overblown sense of responsibility for something that simply was not about me. Jason's act was ultimately his decision, regardless of the various contingencies we can envision in which things might have been different. To make guilt the primary fruit of Jason's death in my life would also cause me to miss an opportunity to treat this situation as an opportunity for growth, which I am comfortable asserting is what Jason, in all his affirmation of life and creativity, would have wanted. As I said earlier, my response to this tragedy is to treat it as a wake-up call: people are dear. They're precious. It is for this reason that we cannot be afraid to accept generosity when it is given, must not be insecure that our response will be inadequate. We must give fearlessly, relentlessly. This is what Jason is telling me, this is what he demonstrated in every second that he lived of his remarkable life.
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in loving memory:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=rK0YnKP6Ea0Jason is the guy exclaiming "Beer! Gotta get some more beer, man!"
As an addendum, I end on a lighter note: I remember the first intellectual argument we ever had, which indeed may have even been our first extended interaction. In Beth's Honors 172 Human Event class, I seemed to think that since we could envision eternity as an idea, it must therefore exist. Jason countered: "Just because we can imagine it doesn't mean it actually exists, biaaaatch!" We must not forget his sense of humor. This isn't even the best example.
I hope that he now concedes happily to my (not very sophisticated) argument.
