[we] are the light of the world

Today, March 28, 2012, marks six months since a resident in my building took his life.
His name is Matthew. People usually say "was" when they talk about the deceased. I don't really understand why. I have to believe that somewhere, he is still Matthew. I think about him almost every day. It's impossible not to. This building is still saturated with moments I missed. I did not know him. I feel like I should have.
Six months ago, in the immediate aftermath of his death, I was reeling. We all were. Being a staff member in this building, being responsible for the young men and women who live here, at first made it feel somehow my fault. I felt- feel- guilty, like somehow I should have been able to do something. Somehow I should have known, should have noticed. I know this is fruitless thinking. I did not know him. There are over 1000 residents in this building. I wish I could know all of them. To this day, and I'm sure for every day to follow, I will wish I had known Matthew.
I know there is nothing I could have done. There isn't anything anyone could have done. We didn't know. We missed it. We shouldn't have, perhaps,  but we did. Maybe he was too good at hiding it. Not everyone wants to be helped. The news articles about him always mentioned his sense of humor, his ability to make others laugh, his smile. I'm sorry I never got to experience that.

On October 31, 2011, another boy named Matthew committed suicide. This Matthew, I knew. We used to go to school together. He was in my theatre company in high school. I think about him a lot, too. I feel much the same way as I feel about Matthew from my building. I knew Matthew Chance, and this makes his passing difficult in a different way than Matthew from my building. It all comes down to the same things, though: I wish, more than anything, that someone, anyone, could have helped. People who know me will know I am passionate about helping people who self-harm, who don't think their lives are worth living. That is a story for another time, but my heart shatters every time I hear about something like this. We need to help stop these stories from happening. We need to help these men and women. Above all, we need to love them.

Martin Luther King, Jr, once said: "Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."
I cannot be anyone's salvation. I am coming to accept this, slowly, painfully. I can only hope to be a light, a flicker in the darkness that gives what hope it can.

"The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned." Isaiah 9:2

I can do so little, but I have great faith that the Light living in me can do all things.