The letter you always wanted to write…..
The day you killed yourself was a Wednesday and when my husband called to tell me I was at work. I felt dizzy in the sunny and overheated hallway in the hospital where I work. I sat down and cried right there, in the hallway on a radiator. And I didn’t care that doctors, patients and colleagues were walking past me, looking away, probably feeling bad for me, but feeling uncomfortable and not knowing how to help.
It couldn’t possibly have been you, I thought as I sat there. You were so funny, so bubbly, so warm. Your children, your wife, a thousand people whose hearts you’ve warmed; you have left such immense wreckage in your wake. I know a bit about that wreckage. Mine is not the same as yours, but when my father killed himself, he left a mess behind to clean up too.