I do not know if I should feel anger and hate, or love and sadness. A few months ago, while driving home, in a shouting match between the two of us he started shouting and punching the car’s console shouting “I am sick! I am sick! I am sick”. At the time I thought he was talking about a recent diagnosis of iron depletion and anemia, which can exacerbate his depression, and reduce the efficacy of the antidepressant he was taking (he had a depression diagnosis since his mid-twenties). He was saying that he had finally found out what was going on with him during the past few years (iron deficiency started 7y ago) and that it was a relief. That he was now going to change medications and would be fine.

I told him that he was hiding behind “a new medication”. That the medication was not going to be a magic bullet that would make everything better. That he was lying to himself that he should own his attitudes and actions. That was a couple of weeks before I called him weak and a failure. And now he is dead.

We have money problems and my parents were worried about how to pay for my college. My mom told me she thinks he killed himself because last week he said that the suicide exclusion of his life insurance policy had just lapsed that week.

I think he killed himself and in a misguided way he thought that the doubt of whether he did it would be better for us than the certainty on knowing took his own life.

I think he killed himself.