When I was in what we called “The Bunker”, my mate Tom and I constructed a device: it was a euthenasia machine. Basically a ladder with a length of electrical flex fashioned into a noose.
Many was the night when one of us climbed the ladder to take the plunge: literally not proverbially. We’d measured the flex out perfectly. It was just the right length and hung just the right height above the floor that our plunge would work.
But we never did it alone. We’d only do it when the other was in the bunker. On more than one occasion, my mate – a Royal Marine – lifted me down. And on more than one occasion, I lifted him and carried him. We saved each other’s lives and I owe that guy my life.
Right now, someone very close to my heart; someone deep in my heart, is harbouring thoughts. I wish I could rescue her but I’m prevented from doing so. My hands are tied.
I can’t carry you my love. All I can do is ask you to think of those around you; think of me. So many lives would be emptier places without you and my life will be nothing if my love is gone.
Jump by all means but only into the arms of those who wish to save you.
I’m waiting. I will catch you as you fly, my bird of paradise.