Last weekend, when it appeared for the rest of us that his life was falling into place, my friend chose to end his life.
I’m devastated at his loss. I’m angry that he would be so selfish in his actions. And I’m sad that he thought this course of action was his only option; that beyond his own despair he could see no light, no hope.
From this loss I’m trying to take something useful, something meaningful. Because I don’t want to give up. I don’t want to stop living just because he chose to. I’m not sure how that fits with my feelings of grief, or it is some selfishness coming to the surface. Maybe it is because I have a daughter I don’t want to leave or that I can’t picture a world so bad, or things so difficult that leaving her would ever be an option.
Grief affects us all differently. I have found writing about it helped far more than talking. Generally for me, when life gets hard or stressful, writing is my outlet.
In some ways my friend’s choice has reaffirmed mine. It has refocused my writing and my clarity that I should be doing what I want to be doing. My friend has gone, and in one of the worst ways – he chose to go. But in his passing I have found a determination to go on living. Not just for me, but those around me. To go on loving those in my life and give all I can.
If you are struggling with depression, please seek help.