MAY 2, 1990

You may think that today is the worst day of your life, but how do you know that tomorrow will not be the best day, if you are not here to see it.


They say that you always remember where you were when a major tragedy happens in your world. The Kennedy Assassination, 9/11, Hurricane Katrina, to name a few. But I cannot remember where I was when I heard the news that David had died. All I can remember is how I felt. Devastated. 
He was only thirty-eight. He had his entire life ahead of him.

David Rappaport was an actor, but he was a human being first and foremost. Born November 23, 1951 to an Orthodox Jewish  family in London, he was a wonderful, charming, intelligent, caring, multi-faceted, funny, amazing human being. He was well-educated, having studied Psychology at the University of Bristol, he then spent a decade teaching. He was an accomplished  musician who played piano, drums and flute. 

To most people, David had many things to live for. That September he was to begin filming "The Poet" about a dwarf poet in a Welsh village, a project he had wanted to do for several years based on the story by Carol Ann Cline. He was engaged, although his prior suicide attempt was in March of 1990, two weeks before the scheduled wedding, which never took place. He had a son, Joe who lived in England with his mother, But apparently, none of these were enough reason to want to go on living

May 2, 1990 is the day that David chose to leave this earth. It was also his son Joe's fourteenth birthday. I cannot help wondering if that was simply a coincidence or did it hold deeper meaning, a clue to why he left us.

David also happened to have been born with Epiphyseal Dysplasia, a form of Dwarfism. But that was only one of the many things that made David special in the eyes and hearts of those who truly loved him.

Recently, I took the last photographs of him to a friend that does Chinese face readings who has done incredibly accurate readings for me and my family and friends and she diagnosed David with several serious medical issues (She knew nothing about him prior to doing the readings). A bit after the fact, I know, but for someone still searching for answers twenty eight years later, it was something. To a child who only wanted to know "why", it is an answer. To take your life because of a lost job or a breakup with a girlfriend or  boyfriend seem such little reasons. Temporary trials that we have all faced and continued on. Suicide is NOT a solution. It is only an ending and only for the person who dies. The people who loved and continue to love and miss them are doomed to suffer for the rest of their (our) lives.

To take your life to end present and future physical suffering is perhaps easier to understand, but even then, if traditional medicine fails you, there are many other options and I say this as a person who has faced death from serious illness and not given up, even when I wanted to, because it would have devastated the people who love and need me. Please think of them when you cannot think of yourself.
Today can be the worst day of your life but how do you know that tomorrow will not be better if you are not here to see it.

David was a very private person and an underrated actor who could smile and make you believe that he did not have a care in the world. That is unfortunate, because no one foresaw what was really underneath that jaunty exterior.

I visited David's grave when I was in England and I stood there looking at the cold headstones in an area devoid of trees. There were no flowers on any of the graves, only stones on top of some of the headstones in the Jewish tradition and I added mine to the top of David's, with a note for him.It had rained earlier in the day and there were mud puddles all around the grassless ground. It was beyond depressing.

      As I stood there, it began to rain again and I could not help but think "You do not belong here", but then I knew that he was not really there.

Cemeteries are for the living, places to go to "visit" our lost friends and loved ones to make us "feel better" for not having done anything for them when they were alive. It is a helpless feeling.

My dearest Mr.Cham reminds me lovingly that I was only a child when David died and I know that he is trying his best to comfort me, again, but it does not make the pain go away and I do not believe that anything ever will.Perhaps that is the price that we must pay for having loved someone and then outlived them.

                                                                                                                           Tess🌷