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Surviving Suicide - a personal story of loss and recovery |

by , Staff Writer @jasonnark

In the witching hour of a winter night, I sat alone in my kitchen, shoveling cereal into my mouth while tears poured down my face.

 My chest heaved, a panic taking hold, and I sobbed into my hands to muffle the sound. Upstairs, my marriage was drifting away and my kids were asleep, the pain in their dad's bleary blue eyes still unknown to them.

Grief was burying me alive at 3 a.m. and I couldn't fight it.

 This was last year. The despair had begun about 16 months earlier on a September afternoon in 2013, when my then-wife called and asked if I'd heard from Anthony, my closest friend. He hadn't come to work.
Ten minutes later, she was calling again, crying, incoherent. And 20 minutes later, I crashed my car into the curb outside Anthony's house. People I knew were gathered there, standing at a distance from the black car backed up to the garage. Neighbors peeked out windows. A police car idled. There was nothing left in that black car but flies.
The Saturday before Thanksgiving is International Survivors of Suicide Loss Day. The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention estimates that 42,773 die by suicide per year, and the World Health Organization says each one affects six people. That's...