Last night I went to the wake of an old Merc guy who took his own life. It was the second such suicide of someone I knew from the trading floor in the last two years. The first was Joe Luizzi, who was actually a colleague of mine. In fact, the second post I ever wrote in this blog was in reference to Joe's death.
I didn't know Mike Lee well; we just worked in close proximity to each other on the floor. I remember him as a very easy-going, happy-go-lucky guy, though. It's so hard to picture him falling into such deep despair.
Most of our interactions involved laughter. Mike usually had a smile on his face and always seemed to have a joke du jour. We really didn't have a whole lot more to say to each other than that; we'd nod "hello" as we passed in the halls and might have shared a table once or twice in the lunch room. That was really about it.
But I was moved by his death. And I'm not sure why. I guess because it just seems so unnecessary. I feel terrible for his wife, his two adopted daughters and his mother. Their lives will never be the same. (Apparently, his dad died last April, same as mine.)
I really don't know how survivors carry on after the suicide of a loved one. I hope I never have to find out. It has to be just about the worst thing imaginable.
Mike must have had demons that weren't visible to people like me. My wife, when hearing about it, said simply "Still waters run deep."
Michael Lee. May he rest in peace.
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