Nick Sharp:
January 15, 1990
to
August 16, 2007
It was with consummate sadness that we joined the Gallivan
family in Maryland to pay our respects to the family of Nick Sharp. We
know that many Three-Milers were with us in spirit.
Some may be unaware that Nick suffered permanent neurological
damage from his July 2005 episode of meningitis. Like many intelligent
and perceptive people, he hid his struggle well. He enjoyed his week at
3 Mile this July. Nicholas took his own life on Thursday, August 16,
2007. He had finished High School this spring, and was due to return
this fall to the college he was already attending. He was applying to
transfer to Dartmouth.
Nick spent Christmas week with us last year. Our experience with
him confirmed what we had already believed: we found him insatiably
intelligent, considerate, respectful, brave, and kind, with enthusiasm
for a breadth of interests unusual among young people today. During his
visit, he spoke warmly and at length about school, his home, his family,
and his plans for the future. He talked about his friends' farm near
his home, where he indulged and deepened his appreciation for nature and
the larger world around him.
We heard the same impressions echoed
by many at his funeral. The Reverend who led his service spoke about
ripples from a stone tossed into a pond as a metaphor for the effect of
our actions upon the world around us. As we entered the service, we
each received a stone. During the service, we each went forward to
place our stone into a bowl, as people shared their memories about Nick.
Some of his friends had gotten together and composed a memory book,
which their teachers read at the service. Dave Sharp, Nick's
grandfather, told the story of Nick learning to play the TMI bugle by
practicing in the walk-in refrigerator so that no one else could hear.
The Reverend also read from Nick's last letter, in which Nick thanked
the many who had tried to help him and urged his loved ones not to hold
themselves responsible for his decision.
Everyone considers suicide at some point in life. Considering
it is not a sign of being crazy or being weak, it's a sign of suffering,
and a sign that we need to ask for help. Pressure from society tells us
we are not "supposed" to acknowlege our sadness, our uncertainty, our
suffering. We are supposed to be happy and have our act together all
the time. That expectation is a recipe for misery. We have lost the
part of life about sharing, and think we need to carry our burdens alone
without troubling those around us. THAT is the craziness. We need to
return to communicating with one another. That was one of the things
Nick so enjoyed about Three Mile—it gives people the time and
opportunity to talk meaningfully together across generations.
In my work as an internist, I spend a lot of time with death and
dying. It doesn't help to cut the impact of this kind of loss. Nick
was an extraordinary young man, and his loss leaves the world a darker
place. In the metaphor of the ripples on the water caused by our
actions lie the messages his death holds for me: first, if Nick's death
opens a dialogue that prevents one other person from acting on the
thougth of suicide, that light is rekindled; second, by following his
example of fervently embracing the people we care for and the things
that interest us, we strengthen and share that light; finally, by
overcoming our sadness and honoring the memory of an extraordinary young
man sharing our support with those he left behind, we move from the
darkness of grief and loss to the light of healing for ourselves and our
community.
Nick leaves his sisters Natalie and Nina, his mother Sherry,
father Greg, grandfather Dave, grandmother Bonnie, a lovely young woman
who was very special to him, and a whole town who turned out for his
service. We will each miss him in our own way.
Sincerely,
Kate Kelly and Landis Rogers
