The phone calls . . . and FB messages . . . and emails . . .
So many losses. So many young people.
If you had told me about this four years ago, I would not have believed you.
If you had told me that parents, fathers and mothers both, would not find the well-being of their young children a sufficient reason to live, I would not have believed you.
It honors no barriers.
If you had told me that young adults, honors students in high school and college, Ph.D. candidates, law students, medical students would not find any form of consolation in the rich futures lying in wait for them, I would not have believed you.
I do what I can, which is almost nothing.
Fifty people. That's what I've read: fifty people are deeply affected by every suicidal death. Fifty people whose lives are altered, and not for the better. Of each of those fifty, there must be at least four or five whose lives are completely transformed. Who live with an outlook entirely different from the one we used to rely upon.
I had not thought death had undone so many. (Dante's Inferno and T.S Eliot's The Waste Land)