"If I could turn back time..." Oh, to turn back time for just one more day - one more day with our loved one. We have often dreamed of that moment, creating an image in our minds that is crystal clear. The two people I have loved the most in my life died by suicide - my grandfather when I was 11 years old, my girlfriend, Anne, when I was 23 years old.  One more day - my grandfather and I are walking up Commonwealth Ave on our way to Fenway Park to watch the Red Sox play the Yankees. It's a great game as the Sox win. After the game we go to the Black Rose and drink pints of Guinness. Just he and I, grandfather and grandson, ever so proud of each other and so happy being together - drinking a few beers on a late afternoon in summer. One of the special pleasures Anne and I enjoyed was going out to breakfast after spending the night together. So, my one more day with Anne would begin with breakfast at the South Street Diner in Boston. Our eyes filled with love as we simply


When you kill yourself, this is what happens - you end your life and as you do you steal life from those that love you, destroy their dreams and devastate their lives of all hope. Their shattered souls and broken hearts will never heal, never mend. Your suicide will condemn them to a life sentence of endless nightmares. Their nights will be spent in a flood of tears, not until they fall asleep but until the sun rises - and a new day of sorrowful struggles and suffering begins, day after unending day. Your death will cause so much destructive damage to your family that it will be beyond repair. All will be ruin. They will remember the day you died every day in mournful misery, in sadness and sorrow, in hopelessness and helplessness - forever doomed to a life of agony and anguish. Their minds will ache in brutal pain as they abandon all hope of a peaceful life. Their lives will be spent wandering wearily, not knowing where they are or where they are going - because their life ended with


  "All in me wants to quit, no strength to go on...." We have all heard the expressions, hope springs eternal and time heals all wounds. But with the sudden sudden loss of a loved one to suicide, our lives are devastated - hope vanishes, hearts shattered. We become lost in the darkness within ourselves, suffering in silent sadness - our grief agonizingly painful. There are days when we struggle with the burden of moving on with our lives - days of hopelessness and helplessness, depression and despair. Every day we force ourselves to get through the  day and the loneliness of the night as we wonder - how do you move from misery to hope and healing? The answer is, slowly. Hope dies hard and healing does come in time. And it begins with a prayer, a plea, we say to ourselves - either out of frustration, desperation or aggravation - "God, I hope tomorrow is better than today." Those simple words are the spark and with each tomorrow, hope shines a little brighter. And hop


  "And when the music plays and when the words are touched with sorrow." And when the words are touched with sorrow...When you have lost a loved one to suicide, you often find solace in music - songs of silent sorrow that your heart cherishes as a remembrance of the love you lost. You do not sing along when you hear these  songs, but listen quietly, solemnly - for these songs are like prayers. As you listen, you may mouth the words as tear drops slide softly down your cheeks. But you are not alone in your silent sorrow, for in that brief moment in time you are with your loved one. And as the tears dry, you smile knowing, "Love was all we knew and all I knew was you." Contact:

Conversation With Myself

  As the new year begins, my mind wanders and wonders as time passes slowly and silently one second at a time. The past, ever so distant, is now present within my thoughts and I wonder why, why suicide has been such a sorrowful part of my life? Since I was a kid to now, I have lost many loved ones and dear and close friends to suicide. I am filled with sadness as I remember them - knowing that grief has no expiration date. Suicide scares me for the suffering and heartbreak it has caused me - the mental anguish, the burden of struggling on with my life, feelings of depression and despair, of helplessness and hopelessness. My mind travels back to the mid 1990's when I was lost and wandered everywhere but went nowhere. I was told to "make yourself necessary to someone." Months later I adopted a kitten. When I left the shelter I put her in my coat pocket. And as I drove home that day, I had in my pocket a small bundle of hope. She became my hero. And during the very difficult


  "All I got is a photograph and I realize you're not coming back anymore." A photograph may be just a brief moment in time, but that moment holds a vivid memory of all that took place that day - before the picture was taken and afterwards. It was a day filled with joy and happiness, laughter and love. A wedding day or honeymoon photo, a son or daughter's first day of school, high school or college graduation - a best friend's birthday party or that special weekend getaway. Then suddenly, on a day always remembered, the heartbreaking news - a loved one has died by suicide. Then in an instant, the joyful memories of those photographs are shattered - replaced with solemn sadness. What do we we do with those photos and the memories they hold? Do we continue to display them or do we box them up? As time passes and the pain not so penetrating, we take out that box and slowly go through the pictures. And as we do, some will make us cry, some will makes us smile or laugh


  We fell in love, Anne and I. It was a magical time of joyful happiness, of simple surprises, of dreams coming true. Once in a while, we would play a word game, "Name the..." - as in name the capitals in Europe, rivers in the USA, etc. Going back and forth until one of us got stumped. On our last night together, Anne told me she completed all the paper work for us to take a two week summer school class on the poetry of William Butler Yeats - at the University of North Carolina. We were great admirers of Yeats and his poetry. Then she said, game time. She would quote a line from a Yeats poem, then I would have to quote a line from the same poem. Anne: "Brown penny, brown penny."                                                                                                Me: "I am looped in the loops of her hair." Anne: "All things can tempt me."                                                                                                  Me: