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The problem with suicide isn't the death, it's the people left behindI awoke to some rather disappointing news this morning. A family friend finally succumbed to his demons and decided to end his life. It hit me like a ton of brick to the chest and I couldn’t swallow. I am unsure how much of the sensation was grief at the loss of a young man, a husband, a son, or how much of my own guilt surged inside of me.

Left Behind

Living so far away there isn’t much I can do but message people and make a few calls. The problem with suicide isn’t the death, it’s the people left behind. Regardless of his potential, his contribution, his successes or failures, he had a purpose in this life. He was a husband, a friend, a son, and now he’s just not.

Its like I had box seat tickets to an excited play I really wanted to watch. I got dressed, arrived on time, took my seat and starting watching. Yet before the first act was even over, the curtain came down and they said it was time to go home. The actors have disappeared, but what are the rest of us in this theatre supposed to do now? This isn’t the way its supposed to go.

Those of us left behind are deserted. There is a hole, a large, vacant, empty, black hole. Nothing can fix the loss of a loved one. Death is tragic. Death before their time is crushing, but death by their own hand is wretchedly unfathomable. This is the sting of death, this is the reality that is left to those of us left behind.

The Problem

The problem with suicide comes long before the hand strikes itself. Its is a lingering cancer inside the mind that grows unbeknownst to the host for so long before one becomes aware or it. The mind tortures its victim for so long, until the poor fool can take no more. When all else falls away, suicide is there with an alluring, seductive final answer.

I know this so well, I know it’s games, it promises, its alluring seduction that pulls you in. My mind can’t take anymore. My reason and logic fail me. It is so enticing to end it all, to escape from the torment. I have at times even been convinced that my own daughter would be better off without me. There is no end to the lies suicide will tell you.

Suicide will tell you it is better, it is the answer, that you will inevitably choose her in the end. And like every crafty woman, she will wait. Its is the ultimate manipulation, one you will never win.


Tonight I am grateful. I know I am loved, I trust I am stable.

I’ve held my kids a little tighter, cried tears I know will continue, and talked with loved ones long over due. I promised his wife and her family (my family) that I would never do this to myself. I promised them, but I also promised myself. Tonight my mother is thankful it is not her having to go through this, while at the same time her heart is breaking for people she loves with all her heart.

I understand. I desire this as well. Tonight I understand why I never can do this…