It was just a day; a Tuesday, to be exact. I woke, watched a little news with coffee, dressed and pulled out of the garage at 7:55 am. I drove to work in Evanston, Illinois. My office was on Davis Street and we were lucky to have a parking garage right across the street. I had a monthly pass and could usually find parking on the 7th floor. There were 12 floors in total.
I headed down the elevator, caught the red light to cross and headed up two floors to Legacy.com. It’s a fairly familiar company as we “hosted” the obituaries for newspapers across the globe. This meant that a newspaper’s online obituary page looked exactly like the newspaper’s other pages with its name and logo on the top, but Legacy.com actually “ran” the page. We posted all the obituaries provided to us, created Guest Books for the deceased and our team ran all the newspaper’s technical and customer service. It was pretty interesting. The staff was top-notch.
My desk sat parallel to one of our many large windows. I faced four employees seated in a four-way pod. If I looked outside, I faced west. In the late fall, if I worked late, I could catch the sun beginning to set. I also faced the “El”; short for Chicago’s famed elevated train tracks. Every December, The CTA ran a special holiday train. Wrapped with holiday images, each car had thousands of tiny lights on top and around the windows. It was always fun to watch it stop at Davis Street.
The date on this day was November 12th, 2013 (11-12-13). I was at my desk and it was a little after 4:00 o’clock when I caught something out of my peripheral vision. Simultaneously, one of the two employees who face the window in front of me stood up. It was abrupt and unnerving the way he did it. His eyes just stared out. My natural reaction was to turn my head and look out, too.
In a single, terrifying moment, I saw what he saw and someone yelled, “Call 911!”
Lying on the ground was the crumpled body of a male. His face was turned towards us and he looked young, maybe 20 years old.
The employee kept repeating, “I saw him fall. It was so fast, just a flash, but I saw him fall.”
It was impossible to consider, but this young man had just committed suicide. It looked like he had jumped from the top of the parking garage.
I have been in genuine shock a few times in my life, and this was one of them.
A couple of people gathered around him. Some continued walking. Within minutes, an ambulance pulled up. They knelt by him and looked around the area. I noticed they were using an orange backboard instead of lifting him onto a gurney. I also noticed that they weren’t rushing at all. Any slim hope that he had survived vanished.
As they placed him into the ambulance, another responder went to pick up one of the deceased’s white sneakers. The fall had knocked it off his foot and lay about six feet from the young man.
I went home, still in shock. I slept horribly and kept thinking about his death and truthfully, that his shoe had been knocked off. I remember seeing his foot, which was only in a white sock afterwards. That image just felt so deeply vulnerable to me; a foot in a sock needing a shoe. Somewhere in those first few hours, I had realized he was just about my own son’s age and I understood I felt this huge maternal instinct towards this anonymous man. I guess it’s why I ached to get that shoe back on his foot.
The following day, as I headed outside for lunch, I noticed a woman inside her car parked within a couple of feet of the tragedy; and she was leaning on her steering wheel and sobbing.
“She knew him,” I realized, and the shock washed right over me again. I never found out who she was to him. A teacher? Family? But I could see he was loved. That brought some comfort.
Legacy immediately hired a counselor and held sessions for any interested employees. I attended a couple of them. It was an emotional coincidence that he died directly across from a company which processes the deaths of others every single day. None of us ever, ever contemplated that we would witness one.
From online newspaper reports, we learned he was 22 years-old and originally from Minnesota. The young man had attended a few classes at Northwestern University, also in Evanston. He was incredibly smart, loved cross-country skiing and martial arts. The article referenced that he struggled with addiction. His name was Caleb.
In just over a week, it will be ten years since he took his life. And yes, I do still think about him. My heart still skips beats when watching a television program or movie when a character enacts a suicide. I leave or close my eyes.
After his death, a fellow employee wrote about his own past thoughts of suicide brought on by both depression and his own brother taking his life.
“..that black ball of depression lurked inside. And it had changed after John died. When I was struggling the most with depression, the idea of suicide would appear before me. It had never done that before. I’d hold the idea in my hands like a strange artifact, turning it over, feeling its ridges, examining its curves, finally putting it away.”
Is this what Caleb experienced? Why couldn’t he put the thought away? Why did he make this choice? I do not know and I’m in no authoritative position to analyze his choice. I will, however, offer the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline support number here:
988
Those seeking help can call or text for help any time on any day 24/7. It is free and confidential.
I do not think of Caleb every day, but I always do in November. Although I’m not sure why, this was the year to share his story. I have never written about him prior to this post.
Rest in peace, Caleb. Even strangers have continued to carry you in their hearts.
Leavingthedooropen.com 
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