In the 1980s, I was best-mates with a boy at school. We lost touch after school but had shared some formative experiences together. I went to his funeral recently and learned what his life had been like since I'd seen him.
He'd become a parent also, I learned. His children were not in attendance because they now live abroad in their mother's homeland, that much was stated. Much of the issues around the separation are not suitable to be aired at a funeral service, although his struggle with rage was mentioned. Reading between the lines, I surmise that she'd removed the children from their father because of family violence perpetrated by him. The extent of which I don't know - verbal, physical, other types perhaps.
My friend took his own life, sadly. I do not know the circumstances, but to guess, I'd probably say that he could not reach a place where he could control the rage, so he felt he could never be reconciled with his two children.
It makes me contemplate our two life paths; the similarities in our upbringings, the formative times we spent learning how to be young men together, our similar inner turmoil with similar impacts on those we love most.
I do not want to continue down the same path as my friend.
I do not want to traumatise and scar my children as he did.
I do not want to lose my children.
I do not want to descend into his desperate depression.
I do not want take my own life.
Id rather:
Change the path I'm on.
Maintain loving relationships and contact with my children.
I want to avoid further depression.
I want never to feel like ending-it is my only option.
