Death is confrontational. Andtoday I am confronted by the suicide of Jordan Grahame (April 20, 1988 to September 19, 2011), a good friend and former student at Trent University.
I am confronted by why he killed himself and whether or not I knew the real him. I am confronted by his difference, complexity, and paradoxical nature.
I am confronted with having someone I genuinely identified with thrust into another category of having sudden and inextricable otherness.
Most of all, I am confronted by how his suicide fits in with all the philosophical one-liners I’ve been spouting for the last however many years. How does his suicide fit in with my social values, with my insistence on choosing a comic narrative over a tragic narrative?
I’m still not sure, and although I write with more questions than answers, here’s my best attempt:
Tragedy relies on victims, scapegoats and enemies.
Comedy invites us to recognize ourselves in all of humanity—in victims, scapegoats, enemies, and saviours.
Tragedy relies on an all-powerful Saviour.
Comedy invites us to recognize God (or whatever word we use) in energy or in our moments of deep connection.
Tragedy invites us and them divisions; highlighting otherness.
Comedy invites us to recognize ourselves in the shared web of humanity, ourselves in the Other. Comedy invites us to recognize ourselves in Jordan.
Tragedy invites us to destroy and eliminate pain.
Comedy invites us to confront the mystery of pain in our own lives.
Tragedy invites us to confine, name, label, categorize, imprison.
Comedy invites alternative imaginaries, possibilities and stories.
Tragedy invites investigation, turning Jordan into a case study.
Comedy invites us to set Jordan free (or recognize he has been set free).
Tragedy makes it okay to say “poor Jordan” or to join in a unanimous “aww.
Comedy welcomes celebration, paradox, mystery and tension.
All said, I can’t claim to know Jordan’s take, and I can’t claim I always choose comedy over tragedy.
What I can say is that when I do choose comedy over tragedy, I feel a little more connected to myself, to others, and to the interconnected web of life.
I feel a little more connected to Jordan—to his energy, his witty banter, his generosity or the parts of him that are being cultivated around me. Thanks be to Jordan.
