RIP Chester Bennington — Acquainted With Darkness

Joe Ryan
Joe Ryan
Jul 21, 2017 · 4 min read

July 20, 2017: Chester Bennington was found dead inside his home in Rancho Palos Verdes, CA. The cause of death was suicide by hanging.

Some version of that simple blurb flashed across publications both physical and digital this Thursday, and the familiar flood of tributes by stunned fans and contemporaries followed apace. An odd twist: Bennington had only recently performed at the funeral of good friend Chris Cornell, and now he was found dead by his own hand on his friend’s birthday, the very friend that was also found dead by hanging only a short time ago. It all seems difficult to comprehend, and one struggles to find meaning and greater purpose in these deaths. The truth, as it usually is with suicide: there was no greater purpose. These men are now gone and they leave brokenhearted wives, kids, family and fans behind. The purpose of life is to live, and these men chose to not live anymore. It strains our sense of what’s normal and usual. We grieve, but we also must forgive.

I can say this with lots of hard earned knowledge too, believe me. A little over two years ago my stepbrother also committed suicide. His death similarly served no ultimate purpose except to deprive his family and friends of his presence and to end his life at only 19. I say these things bluntly because frankly, this is the truth. But the real story is much more complicated, and during times like these when prominent people take their own lives, I go right back to the place I was in my mind when my loved one did the same thing. It gives me perspective that many who hear about things like these lack, and I frequently wish I could share it with them so that at least some folks can acquire some of the knowledge I have without having to go through what I did to acquire it.

Suicide always seems like a shock to those not prepared for it. But those who are trained, like accredited counselors, therapists, psychologists and the like, are prepared for it because they are able to read the signs. My stepbrother was more than a sign, he was a blaring alarm going off for months and months, and he saw his share of doctors too. No one thought he would really go through with it in the end, and there was still shock. I wrote about Chris Cornell already, particularly about the state of mind someone considering suicide finds themselves in, and how in their irrational state of mind it seems like the only viable option. It takes persistence, education, trained professionals, constant vigilance and resources to combat all of that. My circle just really never knew what we were up against, it really does catch most people flat footed. If I only knew then what I know now. I’ll never know if it’d helped, though, that’s the really fucked up thing.

The “after suicide” time is weird though. The beginning is filled with a much more difficult version of the usual “five stages of grief,” complete with extra heaping helpings of denial that what happened really happened. But once you’re past that and have the benefit of hindsight, things start becoming clear. You understand that on some level, this person was already on really casual terms with the very dark side that took their life, and showed signs of that way sooner than you realized at the time.

Chester Bennington became a famous rock star by mining that dark side for musical ideas. A popular pastime with friends I had in my young adulthood was bagging on nu metal bands like Linkin Park and their, as we put it, “whining” about being white and middle class in America. We ascribed their sound to a whinier version of the grunge we grew up listening to, grunge that was fairly cynical and distrustful of the system. But this stuff seemed cynical to the point of self parody, like a teenager writing an angry screed against his mean parents. It seemed trite somehow, juvenile. But his pain was real, fueled by divorce and abuse during his childhood, and it resonated with people. His songs burst onto the scene with lyrics like these:

I tried so hard
And got so far
But in the end
It doesn’t even matter
I had to fall
To lose it all
But in the end
It doesn’t even matter

So how could any of us really be that surprised by what happened this Thursday? We never saw it coming and yet we knew all along, didn’t we? That dichotomy is the really fucked up thing about suicide. It’s taboo but it’s never that far away. It’s horrible but also horribly commonplace. And sometimes it comes in clusters. This death may have been spurred on by another, but then we’ll never know that either. It’s the not really ever knowing the reason why, the real reason, that bothers survivors most. Take it from me. You can piece things together, but it’s a game of conjecture in the end. Sometimes the world is just too hard for some people.

But if you feel it’s too hard for you right now as you’re reading this please, click these links. Get help. Don’t go through it alone. Call a friend, reach out to a suicide prevention chat room, find a therapist. I know enough to know that wanting to commit suicide is like a disease of the mind, and there are cures. Other choices lay right in front of you. Don’t suffer in silence.

For the rest of us, I’ll close this in the same way I closed my essay about Chris Cornell: call someone you care about tonight out of the blue and ask how they are. And be good to one another.

— Joe

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