He looked like Ray Brower, the body from Stand By Me, slumped, twisted uncomfortably, eyes sitting half open and drowsy, staring ahead at the ground… staring ahead, at nothing.

I’ve been there, the contemplation, wondering at the possibility of moving on to everything’s next iteration,

things seemed too much, or not enough, or I was just done with the struggle, ready to check out, take the next step and see what’s next, no muss no fuss, not missed, or not for very long, I know this because I’ve seen it, family remembers sure, but everyone else… you move on, life goes and quickly forgotten.

There is reason when we look down from above, we all look like ants.

My contemplations began as a gun, then a leap, before wading out into the ocean, in my morbidity I considered both the best and worst ways of going, the best being frozen, because it forces sleep before the inevitable ending,

in the history of these attempts I hear stories of regret, most wouldn’t make the same choice seconds later,

jumpers say it, as if in the flash of life, the reality of living hits and they cherish every moment as precious and divine.

I think that’s why they flail, reaching and grasping for anything real or imaginary to stop or break this horrible place they’ve leaped into.

On nine eleven the Falling Man didn’t flail, he dove, head first choosing one end rather than the inevitable, in the documentary the Bridge, the last man did not flail, his choice was planned, calculated, he fell like The Mission’s crucifixion, arms wide open in acceptance of his decision.

Reality is not like the movies, even though he resembled The Body in the end.

I saw him up there and thought nothing of it, he looked like he was watching the sunset and having a snack, but when someone approached, he stepped over the railing and everything changed, accelerated, it took maybe two minutes before he went, nosing off and springing out at the last second, it was quick and not graceful, but for a split second…

before the inevitable… I thought… he could have flown, up and away from all this and everything causing him so much pain.

He drove here, parked and climbed the stairs to a convenient spot at the top, to sit and contemplate, like I said, I’ve been there, not right there or on a precipice, but I’ve been where he must have been, could I have talked to him? could I have said, one day more? and would it have made any difference?

I watched as he flew and watched as he fell and turned as he landed, choosing not to witness, his most personal moment,

I ran up to check of there was anything, a heartbeat of want or need or perhaps some regret, but he looked like Ray Brower then and I could see there was nothing left.

We were there a long time and as the lights dimmed on a beautiful Gone With the Wind sunset, I could only hope he’d found some peace for his demons.