This post deals with suicide and might be triggering for some readers.
You never think it’s going to be the last time you see them. You never think it’s going to be the last text you send.
You never think it’s going to be the last conversation you have with them.
Then you get the phone call that changes everything.
It’s been two years since I lost a high school friend of mine to suicide, almost to the day.
He was a beautiful, radiant person. I used to think of him like sunshine.
He had a big, booming voice. His arms opened as wide as his heart. He enveloped you in these deep, warm cuddles. Not just hugs. Big, bold, broad cuddles.
His smile filled his face and lit up a room.
Looking back, I was a little bit in love with him.
He was just… good. He was kind. He was wonderful and cheeky and wild and soft, all at the same time.
But inside that bubbly exterior was a man struggling with his mental health. A man who had struggled for many, many years.
In 2019, we lost him to suicide.
I still remember everything about the day I got that phone call.
I was in the passenger’s seat of my car. My ex-boyfriend, who also knew him well, was driving us home from the shops at the time.
A girlfriend was incessantly trying to ring me. I was a little annoyed because I was hungry and wasn’t really up for chatting.
She insisted I needed to call her back. As soon as possible.
So, I did.
Bestselling author Marian Keyes on overcoming depression.