~ Sunday, October §, 1986 - [ GOT a phone call the other day from a friend in Les Angeles to tell me that a mutual friend in New Zealand had killed herself. She was the girlfriend of a chap we had been working with on a script last spring. I'd talked to her several times at dinner, at parties, ;oing here and there with a gang of people. Gne afternoon, for maybe an hour in a pub, just the two of us had chatted, comparing notes about fate and human nature. She had studied the script | f was writing and had managed the delicate diplomatic feat of giving me a few good suggestions without getting my back up. She was very intelligent, had a great sense of humor. Lots of sparkle. Sensitivity. Good-look- | ing, too. I’d guess she was in her mid-thirties. | She was the sort of female per- son, to be frenk, who, if I wasn't already hapyily married and she wasn't living with my friend, I would unctoubtedly have asked out for a date, Along with her boyfriend and her mother, she had spent most of her spare moments during the previous winter putting in new fiooring, and re-doing the walls and ceiling of a century-old house in Auckland. The three of them were living under the same roof, a domestic accomplishment of some magnitude, I thought. I should say that the mother struck me as particularly delightful, a woman North Share News Bob Hunter @ strictly personal ® who had travelled quite a bit and who enjoyed a good chuckle. They had me in stitches describing how they had decided to re-do the fireplace by basically smashing it to pieces and re- building it entirely, a task not every woman (or man, for that matter) would feel up to. The chimney looked a bit odd, to be sure. But it worked. And that was what counted. Both women were thoroughly pleased with themselves. And then, last week, daughter killed herself. | called the boyfriend in Auckland and talked to both him and the mother. Their grief was pretty raw. In the mother there was a tone of dull fury. “Tl guess there are dark spaces in us all,’’ she said. Yeh. I guess. I told her as far as I could teil you can’t explain anybody's ex- istence by what happens to them in one lifetime. It just doesn’t make any sense that way. No- body’s life does. Whatever had happened, her soul was still out there on its voyage. Her being couldn’t be over. “Something like that, 1 ex- pect,’’ the mother agreed bleakly. To my friend all I could offer was the idea that a lot of people who die in accidents have actual- ly brought it on themselves, and so, in a way, this had to be just a kind of accident. I was sure she hadn't really meant to do it. The inane stuff you say, but the point is to keep talking. They wanted someone to talk to. Suicide is a helluva lot harder the on Une survivors than natural death. For one thing, nobody knows what to say. Everybody is embarrassed and ashamed and feeling betrayed as well as emo- tionally gored. My oldest son, when he was a young teen, muttered once that he was thinking of killing himself. J told him flatly that if he did he’d have to go back and start all over aguin and go through everything he’d gone through ail over again just to get back to the point he was at now. Although | can’t come up with the slightest shred of physical evidence that this is true, I believe it to be the case. That’s why, while the idea of further lifetimes might be seen by a potential suicide as an argu- ment for moving on, the meta- physical truth is that you abort the spiritual mission you were on. You fail to complete the task. Besides, you can’t skip ahead like that. This is a discussion that has nothing to do with science or pol- itics, except the politics of day- to-day life, duty to each other, and the obligations of love. If I'd had the chance, before she did herself in, I'd have told the lady in New Zealand that she didn’t have the right. Oh, if she was terminally ill and in terrible pain, for sure! But not just because of existential angst. Yet maybe we did talk about something along these lines, back in the pub in Auckland, because the last thing I said to her, I do remember clearly, was: ‘‘See you in the next lifetime.’ NEWS photo Tom Burley NORTH SHORE NEWS publisher Peter Speck shares a joke with Lillian Vander Zalm at the British Col- umbia and Yukon Community Newspaper Association’s annual awards Friday at the Delta River Inn in Richmond. Premier Vander Zalm spoke to the convention and answered questions from the floor. West Van allows outdoor burning WEST VANCOUVER is one of the few communities remaining in the Lower Mainland where out- door burning is still allowed. Fire Prevention Bylaw No. 1496, 1955 currently allows small fires for open air burning of dry leaves, branches and garden refuse only during the first four consecutive Fridays and Saturdays of October (October 3, 4, 10, 11, 17, 18, 24 and 25), provided all such fires are distinguished by 7 p.m. each day. “Such burning is not acceptable to many members of our com- munity — some for reasons of health. If we are to continue, if re- quires responsible action on the part of residents,’' stated Mayor Derrick Humphreys. Dry leaves, branches and garden refuse do not create large quan- tities of smoke, he says, however, if these are wet or other substances not permitted under these reguia- tions are burned this usually results in clouds of thick smoke blanketing the residential en- vironment. ‘I therefore urge residents of West Vancouver to be good neighbors and responsible citizens, do not jeopardize the privilege now afforded to all residents of West Vancouver. Please burn dry mate- rial, use common sense and keep safety as a paramount considera- tion,’’ states Humphreys. WV Liberals meet PORMER SUPERINTENDENI of Schoals for West Vancouver Pdear Carlin is thus far the only announced nominee in the West- Vancouver Howe Sound Provincial Jiberal Riding Association’s scheduled Oct. @ nominating meting. Guest speaker at the meeting will be provincial Liberal leader Art Lee. The meeting is scheduled to be held in the Libera! activity centre, suite 201B, 1420 Marine Drive, North Vancouver. 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