Grief goes in stages, and as it ebbs and flows like an ocean wave, there are many emotions that surface. Anger is one of those. Grief over a suicide is unique as the family left behind grieves a murder, but the murderer is the very person that you loved and lost.

It is interesting to be in a place of such deep sorrow, along with strong anger. Often suicide is thought of as being selfish, and indeed it is. However, we as a society also need to see that suicide is done because the person feels like they are back against a wall with no way out. I am often very upset that my dad left, that he didn't want to see his grandchildren grow up. By leaving, he left the impression that it wasn't worth it to hang around. I get angry that he didn't want to be a part of my life, or at least not enough to want to stay on Earth.

Lately, I've also had something that takes me by surprise, compassion toward him. People who choose to end their lives so violently can not be in a good place. Depression strikes and in the case of a suicide, something happens called "tunnel vision"- the suicidal person literally can not see anything else but their own sorrow, their own overwhelming problems and pain. My dad lived in a different state, so our contact was limited to phone conversations and e-mail, yet looking back, I can now see how he was totally disabled by his tunnel vision. Truthfully, it became exhausting trying to encourage him to see life from a different perspective, to focus on the many things he did have instead of what he could no longer do. My attempts only made him angry and he pushed himself further away from me.

If only I had seen the depths of his sorrow, if only I had taken more drastic measures, if only he had made that mental health appointment for 1 week earlier, he may still be alive. The truth of this seems a fine line to me. He was selfish and not thinking about what he would put his family through if he left. However, I think because of tunnel vision, he was convinced that no one would care, that no one loved him, and that he would not be missed. He simply could not see living with his emotional and physical pain one more day. He simply could not see anyone but himself.

None of us are islands, although I am convinced that at the end of my father's life, he sincerely believed he was. He was however a part of a community. His life touched others, and his death will affect many. I recently read a quote by Henri Nouwen that spoke volumes, "We are not alone; beyond the differences that separate us, we share one common humanity and thus belong to each other."

What my dad suffered from was treatable. His life had been rocked by disabling MS, but his soul and spirit were wounded from deep depression. If nothing else good comes from his death, I will be forever cautious of living my life looking outside myself, caring about others beyond myself, and making sure that I remember that I am not an island whose life doesn't matter to others. Every life God has created here has a purpose, and thus every single loss is felt.

Experience is not what happens to you, it is what you do with what happens to you. Don't waste your pain. Use it to help others- Author Rick Warren