Gone?

I cannot help but realize this - whenever somebody leaves me, be it via leaving my workplace, moving away, taking a job elsewhere, I lose touch with people. They left me, so they are left out of my mind forever. Sure, every now and then a memory or two sneaks in. But this is different. The memory is there all the time. There are two memories. There are the great ones where I recall my 20+ year friendship with somebody. Then there is the memory of the night I heard the news. The day we sat in a circle of friends with our heads spinning around the situation. The day I saw your mother crying out. The day I saw you for the last time.

You left my life, like other people have before, but no in a way I have ever thought was possible. This has come up to me lately as this past Sunday I drove past your old house. The last place you were alive. I looked over while driving down the road but had to look away. 

I have been fortunate enough to get back to focusing on the things I need to do to get through the day like I am supposed to. However, every break or free second I have you on my mind. The family he left behind is very difficult to talk to, even though I know his spouse would talk to me in a heart beat. He is still totally all throughout my mind, but in order to not bring anybody else down I have kept it to myself. Almost like we are keeping no memories alive anymore. 

You know what else I have noticed since his suicide? There are a lot of put-off statements like "I would rather kill myself than XYZ..." It is weird, but I have never noticed. I know I always used to talk like that as well. I don't think I have even muttered these words in the 44 days since I heard about his death. I have heard several other people say it, and I shudder. I know it is just a way of talking and an expression. I know that I will personally never throw away a line like that, though. 

I am rambling a bit. I have tried my best to work through this on my own, but once in a while I need an entry to just get out the residual. I realize that I would also like to help somebody who may have lost somebody recently or help those who stumble across this and can see that it has been painful for somebody who lost a person they loved like a brother. I said earlier it has only been 44 days since the news spread. The past 44 days have felt like months on end. The past few years have flown by me and time has certainly been taken for granted. Maybe I am paying more attention to every detail of every day so that I may keep the image of my friend's corpse out of my mind. These details can be counted down by the second, and I feel like I am living through every second rather than looking up at a clock and seeing another hour or two has passed.

I know many of my friends have gathered their lives back together after this. Sure, I bet many of them have some sort of internal suffering, anger, questions. I have them, and it's because I once stood on a fine line between the choice he made and the choice I chose to make. Those people who know me informally and not necessarily as a confidant would think this was because of a painful divorce I went through. The divorce was painful because it was culmination of things combining in my head that formed who I had become, all coming to a flurry when I thought I was losing what was what I HAD THOUGHT was the best thing to ever happen to me. Eventually, after getting the help I needed, I concluded the best thing to happen to me was actually me, and I have been able to enjoy life since.

I do know the unbearable pain. I know what it is like to wish physical harm on myself to make it stop. I know for a few years I thought there was no other way my life could be. I used to privately live by a motto of "I'm only happy in my misery." It's a line from a song, and it was so applicable. Even after I had caught up with my friends after years of separation, I hid the pain. I still had my bleak outlook. Even though they could tell something was wrong and they tried to lighten my mood, I still came home to the same pain. 

I am still wondering and questioning why I am still hear, typing about somebody who isn't. It is almost like survivor's guilt. I have read a lot that suicide survivors have a guilt, but this is a little different. The survivor's guilt is more like a "what more could I have done" thing. Mine is similar, however more along the lines of "why couldn't I show him what I saw." May not make sense to you, but what if any other person I know crosses similar troubles to what my friend did? How the hell am I supposed to show them keeping their head above water still means they are swimming? That they still have that power within to keep themselves afloat and facing the right direction to breathe in the air of life?

Certainly I did not intend for this entry to take the direction it did. But you know what? If it is one thing I have learned in my life, it is that whatever I said or wrote is what I honestly and truly feel. No need to read through it and delete or change things. If I do that, then I keep them within. Just because I have not written anything in a couple weeks certainly has not meant that I have moved past this thing. His son's birthdays will keep growing in number. Our high school reunions will continually pop up. My family will grow, and he won't get to see it. Our remaining friends will have life highs and lows that we could have been through together. It is still a very real, weird, hurtful, painful reality to think about you not with us anymore. The finality of it always having to be this way is still unacceptable to me. Regardless, I am powerless to change it.

Thank you for reading.

I had a dream...

On Thursday night I was so completely drained. I had gone several days at that point focusing on everything else around me rather than continuing to picture my friend in his casket. I had woken up real early to travel around New Jersey for work, and when the sports talk radio bored me I listened to some music from the band Volbeat. They have a song dedicated to the lead singer's father, called "Fallen." Some of the lyrics in there brought forth some of the emotions I guess I was repressing. It is tough, 10 minutes before I arrive to a job site, to wipe away the remaining tears I have from this whole situation. After a long day at work I went home and was almost asleep by dinner time. I was quite the curmudgeon before I finally shut my eyes at a very early 9 p.m. What Was going to happen during my sleep I would have never guessed.

I don't know how long it was, but that's the thing about dreams. I don't know why they happen or if there is really any meaning behind them. So, I had a dream where my friend came back as an apparition, as a "ghost" of sorts. I don't remember where I was when I discovered him, but all I know is I was walking through some hallway, approaching a stair case. And he was at the top. I always imagined if I could somehow bring him back to just give him one more diatribe from me I would make sure he knew how bad this would hurt the people he loved more than he could ever understand. Instead, when I saw him, in his funeral outfit with a light yellow haze around him, I ran up the stairs. He appeared just like how the spirits of Luke Skywalker's fallen mentors would in the Star Wars films. Cheesy, I know, but hey it was my friend. And he could react to seeing me.

I ran up the stairs, and we extended our hands out for that quick handshake pull-you-into-a-hug thing we have always done. Only difference was this time my hand passed through his and I collapsed through his image, crashing into a wall. He turned around and said "Sorry man, but this is who I am now." I looked at his eyes, remembering how I wish they were open one last time so I could speak directly into them and let him know it wasn't worth it, but I was so glad to see him. All I could muster up was a "I'm glad to see you man."

I don't exactly remember everything we did, but whatever else I was supposed to do that day was no where near as important as spending time with him. I got to hear him laugh. One of my goals whenever I would hang out with him was to make him laugh so hard he would be squinting his eyes. He actually slapped his knees at a knee slapping moment. It almost felt like he sought me out, and this moment was for us. I think that much like in the Star Wars movies, he would pop up frequently. However, our day was approaching midnight, and then he broke the bad news to me. I can still hear the words from the dream...

"Duba, I hate to do this to you, but I have to leave you now. I know I have already 'left', but I have to move on. I don't know if I can ever come back or if I will ever see you again."

Then, I finally got mad. I laid into him. The worst part was it made no difference. It couldn't. Even though the positive feelings and outlooks I tried to provide him when he was alive made no difference, he could actually look at me, in his apparition form and I could see the regret in his eyes. I screamed at him that this could be an every day thing after we (me and all of his other friends/family) helped you get up and over your internal turmoil. I was yelling the question "Why couldn't you wait it out?!!" As I got madder and madder he slowly closed his eyes...the energetic glow around his spirit began to fade, and he was lost in the dust. I knelt down, angry, and then realizing that after I got to finally say my piece to him, he still wasn't around. There was dust left on the ground that stood under the fake image of his feet. I picked some up to remember him by and left. I went home, put the dust in a vial, and laid down next to my girlfriend and began to tell her of my day, and I eventually fell asleep.

I woke up in the middle of the night, rolled over to look at the clock and saw that it was 3:00 a.m. I realized that I was awake for real, and no longer dreaming. I got up and looked around, hoping to see if any of that dream was real, but I realized I was in a Z-quil induced stupor as I stumbled around. I could not go back to sleep. The thought he was right in front of me in that dream spooked me. The angry things I said to him do not make me feel better. Having the opportunity to be able to express these thoughts - the want to tell him it was irresponsible, selfish thing to do to his family, and the most hurtful thing anybody has ever done to me - did not make me feel any better. NONE of these things would replace him.

Do not get me wrong, I would love the chance to still let him know these feelings, but I would also be quick to tell him how those emotions are quickly replaced with sadness. I have been trying to memorialize him in my other forum. I had some fantastic memories with him. Unfortunately I can only see through the keyhole of the room that they are all stored in. At least I found that room. My vision of who he was for the first 32 years of his life are replaced with the last two times I saw him. It is rough, and I know the anguish and pain he kept inside was there all along, but when he started to wear it, it has made it very difficult to remember who he was before it came to the surface. The worst part of this to me is knowing that deep down he always had the potential to think so little of himself to actually pull this off. To actually one day go through with the unthinkable. There isn't one memory I can see through that keyhole where I don't look away because the image of him in a casket is plastered everywhere else in my mind.

This one was not easy to write for me, but through reading and rereading my own words, I realize that I am feeling a little better. I certainly lost something one month ago when I heard the news. It was more than a friend. At least I am starting to find the memories again.

Thanks for reading.

Living in the Shadows

I was talking to a friend via email yesterday afternoon about this blog and how I have handled the tragedy of losing my friend. There is one aspect I haven't seen coming, and it may even seem minor to the overall picture of my friend's death, but it may become a big issue for me as a survivor - I am not speaking to anyone. I have found it very hard to reach out to my friends. I guess you can say I have put myself out to them through this forum, but I mean the daily conversations I had in the past are not there right now. I can't help but feel every text or phone call I want to make will be about him. I am not sure if anybody wants to discuss it or not. I am worried about dominating the conversation with talk, debate, thoughts, and emotions about the suicide. I am not sure if I would come across negatively or pathetic to them, either.

But I guess that is why I have the friends I have. Another problem I have is that one of my main friends is also the one who found him. After sorting through all the aforementioned thoughts above I then think that my feelings about it are miniscule compared to what must be running through his mind. I know I should not think like that, but I cannot help it. I feel okay with having the feelings thoughts and emotions I have about my friend to myself, but I don't know why I have some worry about reaching out to anybody else. Several people, even those from my periphery have reached out to me making sure I'm okay or that I am feeling well.

It is so tough to want to meet up with my friends when I can still feel the coldness of his hand in mine. Every cold blast of winter wind makes that a difficult reminder of when I was at my weakest during his viewing. In his letter to me and our friends, he ended it with "Party on brothers." I've written that before, and it makes me mad. I'm supposed to party with your "brothers" because you are gone? I am sure that is what you want us to do rather than mull over you. I understand you felt the way you felt about yourself as you prepared to leave us. I cannot speak for everybody, but I know you were not a burden. Your pain and situation was far from a burden. And now you have put that burden on other people, that I am supposed to party with. Unfortunately, this is what I want to discuss with my friends. Goddammit, I can't even talk to the people I normally would.

This is extremely aggravating. I am fortunate enough to have wedding/bachelor party for one of my friends coming up next month, so hopefully there will be enough going on to allow me to "party on." Until then I don't know what to do. I know some of my friends have problems expressing or accepting their emotions. I wish I could tell them everything they feel will be okay. Those people I worry about, and I would have to tell them if I felt they were, and who wants to hear that while trying to "party on?" I certainly wouldn't if I were them.

I have, fortunately found greater comfort in my home, where my girlfriend accepted me at my saddest and allowed me to cry into her shoulder, and understands a little more now when I discuss the mental illness my friend had as well as relating with my own struggles. My son, I've learned once again how to cherish him and make sure I provide the best father figure I possibly can to him. They both help my days and weeks move on better and better, but that's about the end of all the socializing I can take. I expressed these thoughts to her before, and she would tell me there is no need for me to have to share these feelings with other people; that I did not have to bring it up, but if I could not ignore it then maybe I needed more time. It is so shocking to me how I went from the uttermost confidence to this self-questioning person, doubting my own intentions and giving myself unnecessary guilts.

One thing I do know for a fact is that time indeed heals all wounds. Just because I heal, doesn't mean I was not hurt, doesn't mean I don't have some form of scar to bear. These are okay. I am healing, in my own way. I just am trying to avoid reopening the wound, I guess. Maybe once in a while it is okay to open up the wound to show somebody how deeply I was hurt? Perhaps they wouldn't feel so bad if they had the same size wound, and they could show me, then we make sure each other heals, and takes care of that wound. Sometimes the wounds we get in life are where we can't see them, and we need another person to help us cover them, treat them, and heal them.

Thank you for reading.

I'm a survivor

It sounds cheesy, yes. But it is true. I've survived many things in my life, including a battle with depression. As I have said before on here it is a battle, not just for today, but forever. I am depressed my friend is gone. He will never be replaced, no matter how many other friends I may have. I just had a lengthy conversation with somebody very close to my friend. We exchanged things neither of us knew about the situation. I needed to come on here and find a way to collect myself.

One thing I kept reiterating in my side of the conversation is that my friend had some deep seeded emotional strife. When these things finally come to fruition into the front of his mind, everything else that was bad happening to him would make that weight heavier and heavier. We both took some form of comfort in knowing that he isn't suffering anymore, but that is not an excuse for his action. 

The other end of the conversation included a lot of "What did I do, what could I have done differently?" type questions. These questions are further proof to me that he had no other recourse, in his mind. Again, that is not a valid reason to me and those that knew him and lost him. A person in a rational state of mind can see there are other choices, other alternatives to coping with the pain. It is just that every person in his life wanted to see him get better. Some of them know little of mental illness while others heard and felt his pain. It is a broad spectrum amongst people I know. I know some are still mad at him, but I don't know if I can hold on to that feeling. I am forever grateful for the things he did for me as a friend, as a brother. I am forever grateful for the memories, even if the person I saw and spoke to over the past couple months wasn't the person I knew all these years. Or was he really that person? I know when I began opening up to my friends, some had no ideas. Others just gloss over it when I relate a similar story about myself. But they only knew what I wanted them to know. So did he.

I would say that this is something that would get better with time after the dust settles. The problem is my friend created a cloud of dust that disappears when I finally close my eyes for the last time. But I have learned how to see through the dust. How to breath the dust and filter it for myself. I have learned that it is okay to sometime get some of that dust in my eye that only the tears can get out, or the dust that makes me choke and cough is a reminder that I am alive and still have a purpose to fulfill while I am.

Finding a friend

Yesterday I had the privilege of working with one of my favorite contractors. I do environmental work checking out conditions under the ground. We have a set of drillers we prefer, and I worked with one yesterday I met a few years ago. We have worked together several times over the years to the point of becoming friends. Some contractors, you can talk about your life, others you know more intimately you can talk about LIFE. Unfortunately for the driller, his wife committed suicide late last year. She left him and their 3 and 2 year old children behind. From hearsay, I heard that she had battled demons and must have finally had enough. I called him yesterday to give him directions to the site. After we got the necessities out of the way, I gave my condolences about his wife. His response, in his typical southern drawl, was "Yeah man that sucked." I told him I recently lost one of my greatest friends in the same manner. He essentially offered back the same exact condolences, along with "and I really don't know what else to say." Neither did I. I was looking forward to the day I would work with the driller again so that I could share the experience. I thought though that perhaps I would feel guilty as I only lost a friend while he lost his wife and mother of his children.

Then when I was at home trying to find some laughs on Facebook, a man I knew from mostly the high school years sent me a message, expressing his condolences for the loss of my friend. I knew it was a matter of time before I had a conversation with him. A few years back, his father committed suicide, most likely due to the depression he suffered after losing one of his younger sons to suicide. This man had two younger brothers, who were twins. He told me the brother that passed had his demons and was part of a long term problem and his father's passing was more like a reaction. I always heard of this news, but to actually hear (or in this case read) it from him, especially at this time, made my heart ache.

However, one thing I learned from talking with these two people - no matter the relationship of the person you lost, those who have lost recognize that it is significant, regardless of the relationship. I always wondered what the man from high school I haven't spoken to in forever would feel like my loss was of any significance compared to his. Or that my driller friend would shrug off my loss. When I was chatting with them, never once in my 15 minute conversation on Facebook or my 8 hour day with the driller did we ever once tell each other how to feel, rather talked about how we feel. The driller was talking about the ways he was moving on, dwelling very little on the loss of his wife, and at one point I could see, and he later admitted, he was getting sad. I don't know the topic, but he said, "that was mommy, ya know?" The strange part to me was then asking me how I enjoyed being the "dad" to a son my significant other had before I met her. The driller is trying to date, and he was actively seeking my advice on how the step-parent relationship blossomed, as that is a concern he must now have. I explained my thoughts on it, and our conversations overall that day were not necessarily negative or positive - just flatline on facts and fact-of-the-matter explanation of feelings. While this wasn't necessarily a "fun" day, it was the most relaxed day of work in a long time (even before the suicide) that I enjoyed. The driller is a few months past his loss, and I hope to be at his point in the near future. Even as he returned to work, was finding a way to raise his kids, and resume his love life, he will always be and showed that he is impacted severely by his loss. The conversation I had on Facebook showed me that even after years, the hurt can be as real and significant as it was in the beginning. But it will be okay to have those emotions/feelings.

It is odd to think this way, but when this happened, despite many of my friends experiencing the same loss and even compared to my two friends who found the body, I felt alone. I still do sometimes. People saw me very upset at the viewing. Some of them showed anger, some showed courage, and others showed sadness. All I know, seeing my friend, my brother, in a casket, eyes shut, seeing a man who had encouraged me keep my head up and my life was better than I knew it, couldn't tell himself the same. I couldn't prove it to him. None of us could. When everybody reached out, I don't know if it was because they looked out to me for guidance, or if they reached out to make sure I was okay. I admit, I try to be as stoic as possible, but the ones who really know me know that I wear my emotions on my sleeve. In fact I could probably package up my emotions and present them to you upon meeting for the first time. Who knows.

When I decided to start this forum I had no idea if I would have one post or post every day. I still don't. All I know is I wrote down everything I felt Saturday night after the funeral. While most of my friends were hanging out at the bar down the street, I had opted to follow through with my pre-made plans of going away for the rest of the weekend with my girlfriend and son. I held them and enjoyed every second I could have with them. But, when they went to sleep, I could not. I sat out in her aunt's kitchen trying to find stories from other suicide survivors. That's the term used for people like us. I don't think it was the content of what I was reading, but as I read more and more I cried more and more. It was a different kind of sadness. One I couldn't wake up my girlfriend to seek relief for. She had been there already for me at the funeral and let cry in her arms, without judgement. A friend later did the same as I walked out of the room one last time. It was some form of sadness that I needed to find a way to direct or else I would never get to sleep, and perhaps become to overrun with it all.

I had my first post completed, reading several times to myself. As I was driving home on Sunday night, listening to the song "No Good, Mr. Holden" by the band Graveyard, the chorus kicked in for the second time of the song. There is a long build up, and I can't tell for sure, but the singer is either experience his own depression issues or those of somebody else, or perhaps a similar loss. The buildup goes through somebody being tortured in a mental and emotional way, more instruments kick in, the song gets a little heavier, it is building to a monumental moment as the singer than blasts "Change is all I want but I can't do it alllll." I lost it. It is at the 3:40 mark of the song. I love this song so much, more so since my friend's passing. It makes me sad, it makes me happy to be alive, it makes me mad, and most importantly it makes me feel like I am alive. I don't know why, just can't explain it. It is the most emotionally impactful song to me since I first heard "Freebird." I realized at that moment that I had to share my thoughts.

I write another blog, mostly about my life, trying to make light of certain things. I hadn't written since I heard of my friend's passing. I never spoke a word of it on Facebook or Twitter. I had a long day of work on this past Monday that gave me all the relief in the world, so I decided to write about it. I titled it "Moving On..." I had a brief blurb about this site with a clickable link, sure to not mention about my friend's suicide, his name, or details. I always post my blog posts on Facebook or Twitter after I am done. When I clicked on the site the next day to put up another post, I saw that 100 people had viewed it. I have never in my life generated anything that ever moved like that. It had more hits in that one day than the original post I put the link to had garnered.

The point of this, I know you are out there. I know you miss a him or her that was important in your life. I know that person you miss was somebody's father/son/brother/husband/boyfriend/friend or somebody's mother/daughter/sister/wife/girlfriend/friend. I didn't actively seek out the people I talked to yesterday, but I am glad I had the chance to. To hear other perspectives from people who don't have mixed feelings at the moment about my friend was a relief. It was a great perspective. I hope that if I never ever in my life met you and you happened across this Site, I can do the same for you.

Thank you.

Why? (As in why did you do it and why didn't I help)

That is the ultimate question I am sure many of you want to ask the person you lost and I heard many people ask themselves. I know between my group of friends, he had some form of contact with people who cared. I talked to him maybe once a week, trying to give him some affirmation that his life was going to be okay and that he needed to get himself better to be the better man and best man possible. His circumstances were pretty severe at the time, and I would hear from a friend who knew of sudden developments that had occurred that would wreck any man. The day I heard that he had lost a significant portion of his life, I wanted to ask him "How ya doin man? Hope you're feeling better." But I knew how he was doing. I knew it was not good. So I asked myself last week "Why didn't I show him I cared? Why didn't I reassure him everything was going to once again be okay? I knew he would not believe me, or worse yet he would not listen.

I know some people were telling him to "Get over it", and I agree to that to a point. Everyone handles a major loss differently. The negatives in his life, they were always there. They must have been in a deep dark place in his heart. We discussed it. I was telling him that years ago, my first psychologist told me that every time you experience something associated with negativity or depressing or tragic, the brain releases a little more serotonin than usual. That's an enzyme within the brain that is secreted to help regulate mood. His issues stemming from deep inside were already bringing him down. Then when everything in his family life fell apart there must have been an enormous release within. All that did was cause more negativity and depressing thoughts to deal with. Yet he was starting to tell me why. His own "why" of the genesis of his feelings. I will tell you, the circumstances he was facing were because of reasons he could never express. I can empathize that the sudden realization of the things that came from deep within are like a crushing blow. I got to a point before that being stuck in traffic would have me dangerously worked up. The stuff I admitted to my marriage counselor at that point were enough to get me immediate help. The thoughts and actions of my friend resulted in people getting him the immediate help he required. You can always lead the horse to water but you cannot always make him drink.

Another why I ask myself is "why did I have to choose a side?" I knew my friend for the majority of my life, and his wife a recent addition that made him better. She is a great and strong woman from what I have seen. I know a couple of our friends were playing both sides of the sword. I never knew of the issues that came up between him and his wife until one night in October I heard my friend, his voice shaking with emotions, tell me his pain. I was so confused. I instantly reattached to him. I did not choose a side as in to defend my friend but rather to help him deal. Perhaps the saying is absolutely true,  like attracts like. He knew every struggle I had and he would be a voice of reason with his get over it because you are better than that mentality. I knew he needed to hear the same from me.

So that leads me to another why- why didn't he listen to me?!?!

That's the toughest one right there for me. I will never know now if he ever understood a single word I said. If he ever knew talking out these thoughts would help him organize them, and help him heal internally. I will never know if it mattered to him that I had been in his shoes in the past, and he helped give me the strength.  Why now did you have to transfer the pain you kept to yourself to the hundreds of people who love you? I know that when you hurt mentally you can either get proper help, make a physical pain to distract you, or make sure the mental pain would be erased. The only even the slightest bit of comfort I take in his death is knowing that he isn't in pain anymore.

Then the questions come fast and furious...

Why did you have to give me your pain?

Why did you have to pop up in my head now during certain songs I once truly enjoyed?

Why could i not repay the ultimate favor to you?

These questions have no answer. They will never be answered. I cannot even speculate what the answer would have been. I shouldn't. I realized that at his viewing, when I was quietly whispering "Why, man? Why?" I could write a book of questions for you, but it would only be half full now.

This blog, this gutting of my feelings like this, I am sure is not a lot of fun to read. It is not fun to write that's for sure. I was able to conquer yesterday, though. Today I hope will be at least eaqually as easy to conquer. To all my friends who read this, and to any other stranger out there on the internet, time will heal us. I have heale dfrom many wounds, internally and externally after enough time. Just remember that when it feels like you won't heal, there is somebody like me who wants to see you heal.

Looking to lighten my heavy heart

It has now been 3 days since his funeral, seven days since I gathered with my friends, eight days since I heard the news, and possibly 10 days since his passing. It is surreal. I can probably count these days for the rest of my life.

I will not mention my friend's name. That is for my social media contributions to society. If you read this and want to share something, don't feel you have to say a name. I by no means am looking to dwell on the collective thoughts pertaining to anyone person. That is for private. It is rather to express the feelings of mourning, loss, anger, guilt, and an unending sadness that comes from a loss by suicide. The important thing is I need a forum to talk. A place to turn my tears into something beneficial and not a pity party. Hopefully, somebody stumbled upon this site and can relate, in some way shape or form, and understand they are not alone. That the roller coaster of feelings is inevitable, and acceptable.

The person I lost was not my hands down best friend, but he was one of my greatest friends. He was not related to me in anyway other than being the same age and from the same school, but we treated each other like brothers. I obviously did not commit my life to him, but his family was (and is) my family. That is how my friends and I view each other. I saw a lot of people for the first time in years over the past week. But I wish it would have been because they chose to get together and were not forced. Any old grudges seemed to have been forgotten or forgiven. Any distance between us was reduced to the space needed at most for a handshake. I saw people who have had their own struggles, some in secret, some not, stand before me as normal people.

I am not sure the enormity of this situation has even fully hit me yet. I am still in shock. I have had my struggles, which go back to as early as I can remember. The man I saw on Saturday was one of the reasons I can fight the good fight for myself. He was (and still is) a part of my self strength, my mental and emotional muscles. I can't say that I HAVE suffered from depression, but rather I suffer from depression. However I have found my ways to cope and overcome. Life isn't a battle you win one time, it is one you must face all the time. At my lowest, deepest, darkest bottom, he was there for me. I tried to repay the favor. Tried to tell him how much I knew it would hurt. His circumstances were able to be overcome, and I thought he would.

Just when I start to remember him for what I he did for me, I start to get mad at what he has done. I guess that is why I am creating this forum. Every 13.7 minutes, a person commits suicide. It is the 10th ranked cause of death in the United States. According to a 2010 report from the American Association of Suicidology, 38,364 people die from it. According to this same report, at least 6 people are intimately affected by a suicide, or at least 230,184. I am sure it is more than that, as I saw maybe about 100 people pass in and out of the funeral home, weeping, or just standing outside the room, speechless, and couldn't go in. There was family left behind who could not get in to the country to see him one last time. There was his mother losing herself in my shoulder. There were people who refused to go.

All the emotions that can go through one's mind are strong enough to confuse anybody. They tear me up inside, but hopefully I can find some form of healing and resolution on my friend's passing.

Please, feel free to comment, share your own personal story, or any thoughts. Anything not directed towards this topic will be removed, so you can feel comfortable sharing here. I am not a psychologist, nor do I want to be, but I am hear to listen as you certainly have for me if you got to this point. As this time passes by, I will write more. I already feel like today can be a slightly better day than yesterday.

Thank you.