My friend killed himself.
It's hard to even type those words and even harder yet to see through the tears. I have long stood by the fact that the only way I can approach things with an open heart is to allow my heart to be broken. My heart is completely broken. I found myself repeating in my head throughout the service yesterday "Depression is a disease, I don't understand it because I don't have it" and trying with all my might not to judge. But I did, I judged him the second I made eye contact with his kids. In my mind suicide is the belief that tomorrow has no chance of being better than today. His daughter who is 6, will someday not have an escort down the isle in her wedding...how can that not be a better day than today was? But depression is an illness that I do not understand and so often suicide is coupled with depression.
Been a tough year already for my friends, this marks the second suicide, one murder and one heartattack. In every death the anger even if misplaced can be assigned to something, in murders and hearattacks the anger is easier to hand out. But in a suicide the anger would have to be given to the only person in the room that doesn't have feelings, the one in the box. Your grief is then magnified with the anger your feel towards that person and the guilt you can't help but feel. "Was there anything else that I could have done that would have let this person know that I loved them and I would have been there if they needed anything?".
Again depression is an illness that I do not understand.