A Story I Have To Tell
September 12, 2023
I changed my mind about the blog that I had planned to write and instead sat down today which is September 10, World Suicide Prevention Day, to tell you a story. Yes, it is a race story, but it’s different from any of my other race stories.
Rebecca and I showed up at 7:30 Saturday at the Crestview Shelter House for the 11th annual 5K run/walk organized by the Shawnee County Suicide Prevention Coalition. The race took place on the Shunga Trail. Rebecca is my cheerleader when I run, and she is essential to my success. Laura would agree because she and I depend on her when we run races together.
I took part in the inaugural run 11 years ago and the numbers have increased each year. This was the biggest turnout yet with more than 215 people who walked or ran the 3.1 miles, many to honor a loved one lost to suicide.
There were booths set up where people could get a variety of mental health resources, such as the “support page” pictured at the conclusion of my blog. Circle Coffee provided coffee creations and a pancake breakfast was enjoyed after the race. I have never seen so many toppings offered for pancakes!
Before and after the race, we listened to great sounds from Cleveland Blue.
To the left of the guitarist was a large screen set up on a table with a carousel of pictures of loved ones who had been lost to suicide.
Several speakers told their stories and encouraged us to speak out about suicide and to go alongside those who are hurting.
Then the race began with all ages participating, even a mother with her baby in a stroller—and she finished strong!
This is my story.
When I arrived at the race, I went into the shelter house and saw a bulletin board set up so that you could write the name of your loved one on a card provided and attach it with a ribbon. I wrote the name of my uncle, Jimmy Gilbert. Jimmy died by suicide on March 18, 2014. He and his wife lived on several acres outside Barnesville, Georgia. He was an amazing man who could do most anything—you name it—he could do it or learn how to do it. He built their house, but he was never quite satisfied. We would visit and he had added a room or moved the kitchen to another part of the house. He also maintained a large lake.
His health challenge began as a young man when he had to begin kidney dialysis. Just before Christmas, 1983, he received a kidney. He called it his Christmas gift. I remember well the first time we saw him afterwards. We had gathered at my parents in Illinois and Jimmy’s color was great and he was able to hike with us at a nearby state park. Even with serious complications from side effects in later years, he held jobs at Lockheed Martin and Gordon College. He served as a Sunday School teacher, a choir member in his church and a deacon. Jimmy served on the County School Board for eight years. He was a beloved husband, brother, and uncle.
One thing that I will always appreciate about Jimmy’s funeral service was that his pastor spoke with openness and compassion about Jimmy’s death by suicide. I wrote the pastor a note and thanked him.
After I posted Jimmy’s name on the bulletin board, I stepped outside where everyone was gathered. Rebecca had waited for me.
I told her: “I just wrote ‘Jimmy Gilbert’ and posted it on the memory board.”
She said: “Look mom!”
I turned to where she pointed and at that precise moment there appeared on the screen of the carousel of pictures Jimmy’s picture. It was gone in a few seconds and another picture appeared. I had forgotten that in years past I had submitted his picture.
After the race, I came back to the screen and looked at each picture for a full rotation. It took five minutes or so to see them all. To think that his picture appeared at the precise moment I spoke to Rebecca about him is more than coincidence.
I had to tell this story.
If you or a loved one is struggling, you can reach the crisis hotline by dialing
9-8-8.
My thanks to Richard A. Wiley for permission to use his photographs.