I can be irreverent, a bit of an iconoclast and somewhat unconventional. Sometimes, that gets me in trouble. For example, soon I’m going to post about suicide––but my approach is going to surprise people. Why? Because I plan to be poignant, instructive and funny.

“You think suicide is funny!?”

I can hear indignant voices blend into a deafening chorus––but no, definitely not funny in that sense. However, as fodder for dark humor––suicide can be hilarious. Especially if one’s approach is to cut through the Gordian knot of self-destruction with macabre, direct tactics.

Of course, morbid, unpleasant and (possibly) offensive yarns have their detractors but handled the right way, the absurdity can be instructive. At least that’s my point of view from the cheap seats.
But what if suicide had affected my life in some way? Then the hell with it, better that I pray for clarity than listen to some knucklehead muse on self-murder.

I feel that way about abortion. There’s nothing funny about it. It’s reprehensible from every angle. And Satan is overjoyed.
Please allow me to share.

*****

“Hi Honey. It’s your dad. Just checking in­­––call me when you have a chance. Love you.”

Her name might be Grace. His name might be Matthew. Both would be college age and they would be extraordinary in untold ways. I can see them now, the familiar family characteristics from head to toe, their grandmother’s beautiful smile, perhaps their grandfather’s nose. Earnest, happy, funny; young people with character, heart and spirit. And promise. Unbelievable promise.