Suicide isn't necessarily a thought in your head each day, but when you learn of a loss, it commands attention. "What ifs?" quickly follow as does "What do I say to those closely impacted?" Those were the thoughts that consumed me when I learned of the suicide of my close friend's sister. She had stopped taking her medications, and killed herself just days after graduation in her bedroom. A room I had passed many times while at my friend's. The talented little sister I had exchanged more than a casual "hello" with. She had struggled with depression, with thoughts of inadequacy, but had seemingly been coping well with the medications. Gone. Like that. No warning. No obvious trigger. Just gone. College plans eliminated. A future ended too soon. At the funeral, I sat with my new husband while I watched the family struggle to choke down tears while many spoke of her kind heart, her incredible talent as a tennis player, and her bright future. I wiped my own tears for both the loss of her life as for the look of pain on my friend's face. When I was able to speak to him after the service, "I'm sorry for your loss," seemed so inadequate, but I knew there were no words I could offer that would be replace his only sibling. Even now, twenty years later, I think of the daughter who will never be given away by her father, the aunt who will never know of or hold her two darling nephews, of the sister who will not grow old with her brother, my friend. Life goes forward, but there will always be a hole in my friend's family that is irreplaceable and a guilt that can never quite be extinguished. Their suffering began the night hers ended.
- S.A.T.
- S.A.T.