A man, a bridge, a jump of hopelessness,
And a second chance
Today was a normal summer day in Rhode Island.
Gorgeous sunlight slipping through the blind in my bedroom. A very welcomed natural wakeup call for what I hadn’t anticipated would be such an eventful day.
I woke with my morning practice of informing myself of the world’s events while sipping some green tea.
I readied for myself for an early morning breakfast meeting.
I showered. Shaved. Put on deodorant, cologne, and clothing.
Once prepared, I ventured out over the Mount Hope Bridge. While attentively crossing the bridge I made sure, as I almost always do, to appreciate the nearly perfect natural beauty of the bay.
Little did I know my next cross over the bridge would take an unpleasant turn.
I enjoyed a delicious, and inexpensive, breakfast at a local establishment. Few things beat a delicious breakfast at a good price. This you can find at a handful of local joints are these parts.
The breakfast meeting went much longer than anticipated; as if it were meant to.
A short drive and I found myself again crossing the Mount Hope Bridge.
As I began my appreciative gaze I noticed something out of the ordinary; something disconcerting.
I looked left. I saw a man. A man leaning against a vertical beam at the peak of the Bridge. An average looking man, likely in his forties, sporting a collared shirt and khaki shorts. Maybe someone’s husband, father, son, brother.
We proceeded past this man.
Before we reached the end of the Mount Hope Bridge it was easily determined we should phone the Bristol PD.
I informed the dispatcher of what I saw, and she assured me they’d send a unit.
When I returned to my apartment, it all didn’t sit well with me.
I knew the police would respond. But I had to know what happened to this stranger on the Mount Hope Bridge.
I rushed to my car and proceeded for over the hundredth time to the Mount Hope Bridge, this time for a more disheartening purpose. As I rolled down 114 the sounds of sirens blaring significantly disturbed me.
The closer I got to the Bridge the slower traffic moved.
As I hit the base of the Bridge traffic was at a standstill.
Several police cars were stationed at the top of the Bridge. Three of these vehicles proceeded northbound and passed me. One was a Portsmouth cruiser, two were Bristol PD vehicles.
They quickly turned into the pull off before the Mount Hope Bridge and began to search a dark vehicle parked there and conversing with each other.
I turned my card around and entered the pull off.
I had to know. I cared to know.
I informed one of the Bristol officers I had phoned in about the man on the Mount Hope Bridge. I wanted to know what became of the man on the Mount Hope Bridge.
The officer informed me quickly that the man jumped.
My heart sank. I wondered if we should have stopped. I wondered if there was anything more I could have done than ‘just call the police.’
The officer then proceeded to inform me that the man on the Mount Hope Bridge was “okay” and was “on a (emergency) boat” down in the water.
I felt joy. I felt happiness. I cared.
I cared that the nameless man that I’ve only referred to the “man on the Mount Hope Bridge” survived his desperate jump from the Bridge.
He was “okay.” Good.
The officer retorted at me, as I was lost for words, quite calmly, almost callously, “What can you do? You’d be surprised how much we see this.”
Perhaps he is true. Perhaps little can be done.
But if there is ANYTHING that can be done then we should try with all our might to do it.
Maybe it is an officer’s attempt at exuding confidence and calmness in the face of someone jumping over 13 stories to what they foresaw as their death.
Maybe he “has to” act in such a way to deal with such pain that must go along with seeing suicide attempts, and completed suicides, and other shockingly traumatic events. I hear the same about doctors who lose patients, or lawyers whose clients are locked away. You have to compartmentalize these events and “not let them get to you.”
I can’t.
Never.
What almost jarred me as much of knowing I saw a man in extreme pain, sadness, and desperation just before he attempted to take his life was the casual nature of this officer and the fact, to my knowledge, I was the only one to have phoned the police about the man on the Mount Hope Bridge.
How many people saw this man staggering his way along the narrow “sidewalk” on the bridge to its peak? How many people drove by this troubled man as thoughts of the stresses in his life overcame him and brought him to the point of attempting suicide? How many people witnessed this man’s walk through the darkness? I didn’t watch his walk down the passage of potential death. I saw some of the last few seconds as he soaked in a beautiful Rhode Island day. What he anticipated would be his last moments on this earth. Maybe in that moment he found some sense of comfort he had so struggled for up until today at 1:00pm EST.
He has a second chance now.
I care to know he does.
Depression is real. Our society is beginning to realize and understand the biological imbalances of the brain that create such inescapable and incomprehensible sadness. But many suffer in the shadows. Too many perceive depression, and its brethren, as a weakness. We would not deem someone with diabetes, a kidney disease, or another biological disease as weak. We treat these people. We care for these people. Maybe the man on the Mount Hope Bridge was “too proud” to seek help, or maybe that help was insufficient.
Whatever brought him to that Bridge today I hope will never emerge again for him.
After all, he is “okay.” He survived.
Man on the Mount Hope Bridge, I hope you find the help, peace, and comfort you had not found before today.
_____________________________
For more information on depression, how to help yourself or the ones you care about please check out:
http://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/publications/depression/complete-index.shtml
kelly amaral
/ August 15, 2010We, too, saw this man yesterday on the bridge. As I reached for my phone there were two police cars coming from Bristol. My husband stated that you could not see the man hiding behind the beam as they passed. We proceded on our way with the hopes that maybe he was just up there enjoying the view. I am very happy to hear that although he jumped, he was “alright”.
I want to thank you for being the person who made the call. You have restored my faith in others.
evantrowbridge
/ August 15, 2010He was nestled right next to that beam on the left (heading north) and right (heading south). I was fortunate to have been able to view him and made the determination to call. I had hoped he was merely a minor lawbreaker (as pedestrians are not supposed to cross the bridge) and enjoying the view. In case it was something more troubling, particularly for him, I just wanted to make sure and made the call to the Bristol PD.
I do have to commend them, because when I returned 10-15min later to ask how it turned out there were at least 4 police vehicles I witnessed, including Portsmouth, and they had already “retrieved” the man in a boat in the bay. And yes, fortunately he was “okay” the Bristol officer said.
And thank you. Just doing what my parents raised me to do in exercising the caring they instilled in me.
Brian Connor Doak
/ August 15, 2010Evan,
That man on the bridge is my uncle Sean. Sean is a fine man, a loving husbasnd, a father of two successful children, Princeton Grad, attorney and so much more. He has always been my favorite uncle. He also has suffered from bewildering bouts of depression his whole life. His father, my grandfather, also took his own life by jumping in the early 70′s. I wonder, did that make it okay for him?…a reasonable way to go out?
I can tell you’re a caring person and I want to thank you because all I know from my home in Baltimore about what happened to Uncle Sean is what you wrote so beautifully. In the movies, the two of you would connect and somehow you would be part of the healing process that makes Sean whole. Maybe that can be what happens in reality.
We’re all very distraught about this experience and I am very touched by the way this experience impacted you and also your ability to write about it. Maybe someone else in a desperate hour will read about it and think of all that makes this world worth fighting to live in.
Warm regards,
Brian (or “Bur” to Uncle Sean)
Evan Trowbridge
/ August 15, 2010Brian,
I am sorry for the pain Uncle Sean has been suffering for who knows how long up until today. I am also sorry for any physical pain he may have sustained as a result of his leap yesterday. I hope that he recovers fully, both mentally and physically.
I am glad I have been able to provide some insight into what happened on the bridge yesterday and an exhibition of caring.
Depression is a brutal and misunderstood struggle. It’s a fight that may be eased by understanding, therapy, and even medication. But we all have to be aware that there is no “cure all.” Even some of the most successful, educated, “normal” people find themselves caught in the grips of depression. Depression doesn’t discriminate, and when it hits it’s a difficult to control storm.
I sincerely thank you for seeing me as a caring person and providing such kind and genuine words.
I wish Uncle Sean the best. He sounds like a lovely man. If he, you, or your family need anything, do not hesitate to contact me at evan.trowbridge@gmail.com.
Wishing Uncle Sean and your family the best,
-Evan
ashley theis
/ August 16, 2010Evan,
I am Brian Doak’s cousin and I was just laughing the other day with my mother Stephanie (she emailed you) about Uncle Sean and his sense of humor. Burrie and I along with my sister Heather and Brians sister Stefanie enjoyed many fun summers at our grandmothers pool . Sean would do funny tricks in the pool and play with us. How strange that a couple of days later he would attempt to take his life. My sister Heather died three years ago of a pulmonary embolism BUT had suffered for years with bi-polar manic depression and had tried to take her life many times…Sean tried to be there for her and how strange he would eventually try to follow her. I am so grateful to you for calling 911 but for also talking about mental illness and how it is a DISEASE. It is a powerful sad, scary thing and people need not ignore it…its not going away. THANK YOU!!! I would like to think my sister had a hand in Sean being unsuccessful along with Christ right along with her.
God Bless You,
Ashley Theis
Evan Trowbridge
/ August 21, 2010Ashley,
I sure hope Sean is feeling better on beginning his journey on what I hope will be a full and happy life.
I am deeply sorry to hear about the loss of your sister. I am sorry for the anguish she had gone through as she too battled a psychological disease like your brother. I hope her, and your family, have been able to find the comfort we all so deserve.
Sean was very fortunate. I deeply believe everything in life happens for a reason and he was meant to survive that jump. Genuinely, I am glad he did. I hope his struggles, his jump, and this piece can assist in some minor way in his recovery.
Depression, bi-polar disorder, and other psychological disorders are now getting the adequate attention and progressing to a better understanding in the 21st century. Too often people deem those who struggle with these diseases as “crazy” or “weak,” when no one would think to say the same of someone struggling with kidney disease or diabetes. There is still a lot of research that needs to be done and compassion that needs to be found. But I am confident we are heading in the right direction.
I wish you, Sean, and your family the utmost happiness in life.
All the best,
-Evan
Jayne Magown
/ August 16, 2010My husband and I along with two good friends were on a sailboat heading up the bay from out home port in Bristol when we heard what sounded like a gunshot but it apparently was the man hitting the water. We looked quickly all around and up to the bridge where there was a small group of people pointing down to a man in the water. He had jumped right in front of us perhaps by less than 200 yards. We were the closest boat and began to approach him calling out do you need help! My husband a long time life guard years ago on the Rhode Island beaches was readying himself to jump into the water to rescue when the Portsmouth Harbormaster appeared. We were very relieved to see him arrive. The man in the water was holding on to the bridge abutment. We stood by to help if needed but the harbormaster wasted no time in hoisting him into the patrol boat. We were speechless. Over channel 16 they reported the man was rescued and “okay”. Except for a torn shirt he looked okay but we all felt so sorry for this stranger and thought how about how troubled he was. We thought about him all weekend deeply hoping he was getting the serious help he needs.
Our thoughts are with you,
Jayne and Bob
phoebe Dunn
/ August 18, 2010As we motored out past Spar Island in calm Saturday, I saw a blue crab swimming towards Cole’s River. We passed under the bridge after noon, tied up to the fuel dock at Alden’s before one. I heard the Coast Gaurd calling pon pon on the radio to report a man had jumped from the Mt. Hope Bridge. Portsmouth Harbor Master came on soon after to say they had retrieved the victim. Captain Bro and I tied “Miracle” to the dock and stood there holding hands and wishing the poor soul well. Despair on a beautiful day.
Phoebe Dunn, First Mate
Charles Whitin
/ August 18, 2010Are you any relation to a Phoebe Dunn who once lived in New Canaan, I think married to Tristan Dunn? Phoebe is/was a photographer. Tristan was a graduate of Kent School, the same school the man who jumped graduated from in 1965. Just curious. Actually, I think Mount Hope is an especially wonderful name for the bridge now. Is your boat really named “Miracle”?