was successfully added to your cart.

I am so very tired of the way this story ends

By April 4, 2014Denial

The irony of this photo infuriates me.

 

Michael Bonner

March 19, 1987 – April 4, 2014

If you are lucky, you will meet a person who will materially affect you in a way you will not be able to explain. There is a sense of familiarity that exists before you actually meet, and you know this is a person who will have an impact for the rest of your life.

The truth is I only met Michael Bonner three times in person. The first time I met him he had volunteered his time to be a photographer for the Life is Priceless Gala. We met that evening, shook hands, and immediately there was something about him that struck me as special.

We didn’t speak that much that evening, but when I felt the lens pointed in my direction, it was almost as if he held the power to look directly into your soul—your very well-being. It was if he was saying… “Don’t be afraid, you have permission to be exactly who you are. You have nothing to be afraid of because I only see beauty and truth through this lens.” And he did…

The second time I met Michael was at a classroom/studio at SVA. I needed updated headshots for the Foundation, and there wasn’t really any debate Michael would be taking them for me. It was the first real conversation we would have where we exchanged our stories. A conversation he has probably had with any of you who knew him and was in the more formal setting. The back and forth that is needed when you are the subject matter and don’t want to look like you are the subject matter. I learned about his journey from Hawaii, around the world, serving in the Navy, and his passion for capturing the world through his lens.

The one thing that stuck out at the shoot was Michael himself—the confidence he had in what he was doing, the maturity and control of his art, and yet there was this other “thing.” It was this insecurity… it’s very hard to explain, almost as if he hadn’t yet fully understood how to wield this gift he had. I’m struggling to find the right word. I would imagine it is like being a teenager with superpowers and not fully understanding their full capabilities but also wanting to just be a normal teenager. I’m screwing this up here in hopes some of you might read this and come up with the right analogy.

The headshots came out great.

The third time I saw Michael was in my home. I had invited him to join me and my friends at my Tree-Trimming Party. I asked that everybody bring an ornament and a bottle of something red or white. And he did just that. He brought two ornaments of wine bottles in both the red and white variety and brought a third ornament, which was of a beer can and had quipped “I also brought some beer.” It was very witty and well-played. As with any event I host, I try to ensure the group dynamic works, and Bonner was as comfortable in the group as if he had been in the circle for years.

So you can imagine my surprise when I received a call from Bekkah Storer saying something had happened to Michael, and it wasn’t good. I had an immediate feeling that I had not yet realized the loss I just incurred.

I hesitated to write anything while I awaited more news. But as the time went on, it appeared, and then was confirmed, that we had lost Michael Bonner to suicide.

And just as it was with David, I immediately felt myself cycling through the emotions. I knew I lost something—not so much the memories since we had really only met three times, but I was feeling waves of massive frustration and sadness of what future was taken from all of us. I felt as if I had found another person who could help capture visually the impact that depression and suicide had on our society, the families and friends of those who suffer, and at the very core, the people suffering themselves as we try to demonstrate the impact suicide has on those left behind. And more importantly, perhaps somebody who was suffering would see that there is a growing amount of people who are ready to talk about our deepest fears, insecurities, and struggles, and collectively perhaps we could get out of the darkness when the burdens we bare become more than we feel that we can handle. And do it together.

I will not lie: I am hurt. I have been thinking to myself these last several days of this tremendous failure. I feel personally responsible in some ways to the loss of Michael because I feel it is as if I am not doing enough. I cycle questions like, “Bonner, you know what I do, you know what I lost, even though we may not have been the closest of friends, there was a phone call you could have made. You had a number, you saw the impact, why didn’t you call me?” I have a sense of failure that somebody so close to me, so close to the Foundation, with so many resources available directly related to this did not reach out, and I am stuck telling the same tragic story again. I will internalize this for many days, months, and years to come. All of these stories impact me, but this one will leave a much larger scar because of the future that will not be realized, the potential left unfulfilled. Because when you meet the type of person that Michael is—a person who can take the picture worth a million words—you realize how much more efficient he is in telling his story than I am able to with my writing. Collectively, I saw tremendous progress forward with his help, and selfishly I am angered, disappointed, crushed, saddened, annoyed, devastated that it has been taken from me, from us.

I look over the Facebook posts on his page and realize I am not alone. Something was taken from us all, and few of us were able to identify and see the struggles he was enduring. As it is told all too many times, the people who suffer most appear to cover it up the best, and that is why we are so shaken when we hear news like this.

I hurt tremendously for this loss. Many people are hurting for this loss. This will not be the last time we hurt—this is not the last time we will hear this story.

Michael, I truly hope that your sacrifice and your struggles can be a beacon of hope for those of us you have left behind to once again put the pieces back together and be reminded that life truly is priceless. I will never attempt to rationalize what you have done. I will only say this: The world is less bright today than it was on Thursday because you are no longer here with us. Perhaps through your pictures we might find some hints and clues as to the things we might have done, will do, to provide the comfort that you perhaps needed and that you gave to so many.

I have now lost a second brother, a kindred spirit who impacted my life greatly by showing me your life, your perspective, literally through your lens. I will forever grieve for the “what could have been” but will also try to remind myself that this awful feeling welling up in my throat, that the tears clouding my vision as I hunt for the right combination of letters, is a celebration of the life you lived, and acknowledge that I was lucky enough to have met you at all to even experience this feeling in the first place.

This post is for Michael Bonner, the man who reminded you to be not afraid of who you are and had the gift of showing you why.