For those who think of committing suicide “a life without them in it,” the reality is so often over romanticized.
I am at my nephew’s funeral, but in all this world there is no real trace of him left. A candle burns amongst a circle of vibrant flowers, but he will not find any warmth from it and the flowers will wither in days.
Funerals are for the living to say goodbye to the dead, but as I scan the room I see only the dying, heads bowed as tears fall. You cannot underestimate how many smiles my nephew stole. Like the surviving victims of a crime they will recover and return to some sense of normality, but they will never forget. They will be haunted by words and memories, followed endlessly by unanswere...
