It is a calm, almost balmy, May evening on the waterfront in Kingston. Folks are strolling and absorbing the warmth and the quiet.
As I walk along, I am troubled, however, thinking of the young man, a stranger to me, who chose to end his life this week by throwing himself from the 17th floor of the apartment building where I live. I grieve for him and for his family. As I soak up the beautiy of this early summer night, I am saddened that this fellow, a boy really, must have felt such overwhelming turmoil and despair and that he will never again experience this peacefulness.