Suffering From and Thinking About Suicide
My father was the best man I ever knew. As a man, he was everything I ever wanted to be. He was an outdoorsman par excellence, he loved his wife (my mother), and he always made me feel loved and spoke to me as one person to another, imparting his wisdom with kind firmness.
Dad was also a very troubled man and struggled with depression for years without letting his burden affect our time together.
During the economic downturn of the early nineties my father lost his job (he worked in construction) and, seemingly along with it, his identity. He was sullen,