David Gordon spoke up for those who have no voice. It’s time someone spoke up for him.
For the past two years, I had the privilege of calling David my brother-in-law. My time with him was short but precious, and it was a blessing to have him in my life. Many of our conversations centered on words. Writing was a passion we shared, and David was a gifted writer, as his loyal readers can attest. I was one of them. His blog, Sparks of David, is a treasure trove of musings on life, philosophy, and spirituality. Each eloquent entry drips with wisdom, wit, and sensitivity beyond his years.
I recall discussions with David about the power of writing. We talked about the responsibility that comes with the pen, its potential to influence and inspire. His landmark 2013 column for The Huffington Post was that very potential fulfilled.
David’s heart-rending account of the sexual abuse that claimed his childhood innocence was a clarion call to fellow victims too afraid or ashamed to voice their pain. Overnight, he became a hero to survivors and an outspoken advocate for their cause. His words transformed lives, and continue to do so now that he’s gone.
But not all words have the power to heal. Some have the potential to harm. And never has that been clearer to me than in the days following David’s tragic death.
Within hours of the news that the search for David had ended with the discovery of his body near his IDF base in central Israel, one word began to insinuate itself into the online conversation:
Suicide.
The word appeared again and again in blog posts, opinion columns, and Facebook comments. It proliferated across the Internet, and readers accepted it as fact. The general consensus was that David had survived the horrors of warfare in Gaza, only to lose his inner battle with unspoken horrors that never stopped haunting him. But all of that ignores one vital truth:
His death has never declared a suicide.
Three weeks have now passed since David’s levaya, and the IDF has yet to announce an official cause of death. The reason is simple: there simply is not enough evidence. If there was, the case would have been closed long ago. And for those intent on building a case for suicide, the few published details don’t seem to add up. (Would someone schedule a wisdom tooth extraction for the same day he planned to kill himself? And how many suicide victims are found with multiple gunshot wounds, instead of a single one?) The investigation continues, and scenarios like accident or foul play have not been ruled out.
Meanwhile, a family devastated by the loss of a son and brother was forced to endure a slew of hurtful speculations. I saw with my own eyes the pain inflicted by commentators who saw fit to martyr David before he was even buried. I shook my head at the hubris of bloggers who claimed to know more than the IDF, Shin Bet, and the immediate family combined.
Mostly, I cried at the blatant disregard for how far David had come in his life.
Suicide is a convenient narrative to explain away such an unbearable loss. Outsiders can be forgiven for connecting the dots from childhood abuse to substance abuse to the final comfort of death. But to those who knew David—the family and friends who agonized with his struggles, celebrated his triumphs, and stood by him as he rebuilt his life—the notion of suicide just doesn’t ring true.