My heart aches right now.
In the cubicle across from me sits a woman, around 62. She's a wife, a mother, a grandmother. And she's a survivor of suicide.
Her youngest son killed himself on this date, 22 years ago.
How do you get past something like that? Why does something like that even happen in this world? But it does. All the time.
When I was 15, suicidal thoughts entered my mind a lot. I sincerely hated life and just didn't understand what the point was to continue on. But every time I put more thought into it, I always thought of my nephew (only had one at the time) and my parents. As much as my parents pissed me off, how would they feel if I killed myself? And my nephew, then 2, how would he feel? Would he someday wonder if it was his fault that I killed myself?
So I never went through with it.
Plenty of people do, though. Plenty of people don't think there's any hope left. Plenty of people are so submerged in the dark that they can't see any more glimmer of light to hang on.
So they end the pain and suffering.
And they leave their survivors to wonder so many things, to feel so many horrendous things.
My coworker, she has another son who is my age. I imagine she had to go on for him??
Ack, my heart just aches right now for her. I just don't understand how this kind of pain, this kind of heartache can even exist. It's just cruel.