Suicide seems to lead to blame. Self-blame. Blaming others. Why didn’t I…? What if he…? We often wish we could but we can’t control the decisions other people make. For better or worse.
Suicide is different. If my husband died by suicide next week, people would wonder why I didn’t see it coming. They’d puzzle over why I hadn’t known that he was depressed and gotten him to a doctor. They’d question why I’d left him alone, why I’d decided to go to meetings all afternoon, saying goodbye to him buried under the covers of a messy bed.
They would blame me.
I remember taking a young friend to a teenage boy’s funeral. His parents stood next to his open casket and shook people’s hands. I didn’t know them but I shook their hands anyway and told them I was sorry. In the back of my mind, I thought, ‘how could you have let this happen?’ And then just as fast, I thought ‘anything can happen.’
Anything can happen.
If planes can fly into skyscrapers and no one, not air traffic controllers nor…
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