I understand how people are horrified by it but the act is the terror, not the person. I cannot to this day witness the act of how you killed yourself on television. I will not deny the scariness of the violence of suicide. I am saddened though that for some their lasting memory will be of you being the bloke who “committed” suicide. I am not ashamed and I refuse to allow them to make me ashamed of you. It has never failed to surprise me how often people flinch or change the subject when I mention your mode of death. We did but in a whole new, there’s a void, kind of way. We did, however, have to pick up life, bit by painstaking bit. Who can forget you if they have ever even remotely been part of your life? You more than made your mark with your large personality, your cheekiness, your silly noises, your penchant for designer gear and your charm with the ladies. That is not to say that we moved on and forgot you. I will state though what I witnessed: parents needing parenting siblings trying to pull closer only to unravel apart your son too young to understand and true friends who loved and were there because no words could ever make it OK. I will not speak entirely for our family as their memories are their own.
#My friend committed suicide how to#
I had to train my brain in how to help me to walk, speak, look people in the eyes and just be a human being. I had to tell myself how to inhale and exhale. We all have to breathe though, and it was so bloody hard when I did. Did they not know that my brother had died, by suicide even, and I was holding my breath? Did they not know that I thought by not allowing myself to exhale, I could hold you inside for a little longer? I was mystified by how everyone carried on living. That monstrous voice of depression committed the crime, not you. You were beguiled by the seductive voices that told you it was better this way that the hurt would end and you were sparing your family and friends from it any further. I wish you could have seen that it was a temporary decision made painfully permanent. Every day I wish you had not decided upon suicide. It may sound controversial to others but it was your life, you chose what to do with it.ĭo not get me wrong. I will not ever render you a criminal for taking your own life. I refuse to ever state that you “committed” suicide. I needed to connect with the last part of you even if it was just your watery pain. My heart still clenches every time I remember seeing those splashes upon paper. How can you ever convince those who inhabit the “real” world that you have been living in horror? I know the tears that splash the ink of a suicide letter as you try to find the words to explain. I know the battle between your true self and deceitful depression as you agonize over whether you could do this to yourself and your loved ones. I know the strife of tussling with life and death, particularly at night when sleep evades you and the monstrous voice of mental illness whispers in your ear that to die would be bliss. It seemed more preferable than fighting in the harsh light of life. I have spent hours in the past contemplating the darkness of suicide. I know how it is to feel like the only option to ending the relentless agony of living and feeling too much is to find seeming oblivion in death. I only hope now, as I have done since that day, that somehow you found peace. I know that life must have been torment for you to consider suicide, particularly on Mum’s birthday. It was just the beginning of pain, regret, loss, grief, retrieving memories and learning how to live in a radically altered world. To reach out to those fighting against it or surviving attempts may this help them in some way too.Įleven years ago I guess you thought your actions had brought an end. Also if anything I write to you helps others grieving those who have died by suicide, I would feel honored. Some may question why I’m writing so publicly about something so personal. Another year’s remembrance over, but the memories live on. The anniversary of your death by suicide comes quickly and now it has passed.
From the moment New Year’s Eve is here, I know I will have to face the torment of January.
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