Coping with suicide is something that tests one's own inner-strength and courage. Plain and simple, it's tough.

Back in April of this year, my dad almost got away from us. And it was such a shock to everyone. Luckily my stepmom walked in on him trying to doze off for that long eternal nap after a cocktail of about 50 Tylenol PM's, half a bottle of vikes, and another bottle of various meds, all while the car is running in the garage at my grandpa's house. My pops had everything planned out, too. He had been scheming since at least 5 months leading up to the event. He made new, larger life insurance policies for us kids and his wife around January, so that told us right away he was mentally unstable. He had lost his business to bankruptcy about a year earlier, and had been out of work, and money, ever since. In his extreme state of depression and desperation, he tried to solve his money troubles. To him, at the time, taking his own life and leaving his family with oddles of money seems like the only answer. If it meant that we were okay, he would do it. Some might call him a bad father, but others might call him the most selfless man alive. Myself, I am still not sure.

What makes it harder for me, especially, is that I stumbled upon the 'crime scene', quite by accident, the day after it happened. Since I hadn't heard from him all week, after I got off work, I went over to my grandpa's house, whom he was house-sitting for the time being. No one was there, so I walked around the back and into the garage, only to see a long black tube from the gutter sticking out of the back of my grandpa's Towncar, with the window slightly cracked. At first, I thought maybe he was vaccuming the car out and just didn't clean up the mess, but then it hit me. It was like being hit with a million bricks in the stomach. Naturally, my mind went into a frenzy trying to figure out anything I could.

I looked in the car and saw a picture of my sister and I, him and his wife, and one of my grandpa and his girlfriend. There was also his empty pill bottles and a lone empty can of beer on the floor. He had a bible in the car too, surprisingly enough. I never thought of him as a religious man, but he had a few verses marked and I'm assuming he read over those as he nodded off. I sat there for probably a half hour just sobbing. Mostly b/c it was just SO depressing to go like this. He was so alone. I just kept envisioning him, sititng in the running car, sobbing, reading over the bible. I was really curious as to what, if any, music he was listening to, but the keys were gone. What's funny is that I looked up info on death by carbon minoxide poisoning from car fumes and found out it is no longer lethal after all motor companies opted on installing catalytic converters in all mufflers to stop almost all the toxic CO2 from coming out the tailpipe. So he might have gone, he might not of. The pills alone were enough I'd think. He was in a drunken stupor for 3 days straight.

I sincerely apologize for the lengthy post, but I had to get that out I guess. My point is that you just have to take into account what was going on in your friend's life, and also their head. Everyone's different. Take my dad: he saw suicide as a way to solve our money troubles, when in reality it would not only have left a bunch of people without their favorite 'big guy', but the insurance company would probably not have paid off a suicide. Most, if any, do. And in your friend's situation, it looks like he just couldn't take the depression anymore. The pain was too much, and I totally believe it. Hell, I didn't even lose my dad, and it was still enough to make me shudder and breakdown at the thought of losing him. I can only imagine actually losing a close friend or family member.

Hope you get through this okay, man. Others, including the fine folks in our cyber-cannabis-culture, are here for you. Best wishes ~