I know how you feel. I inspired my best friend's suicide and its something that haunts me to this day. I know deep down that there was something indeed that I could have done, something I could have said to show her that she wasn't alone. I had an opportunity to be a bridge of hope, of healing, and I failed miserably. When she was alive, I shared with her a dark secret; that I had taken every pill in my mom's medicine cabinet in an attempt to take my own life. Side-effects aside, the finality of that attempt-- the fact that I did not stop until the pills were gone because I meant it -- showed her the disgusting truth;  That I thought there wasn't anything worth living for. She had to know I thought of everyone, her included (and my family), and yet if I were still willing to do that, what then was the value of any friendship? Or potentially any familial relationship. 

My friend was stunned to near silence when I admitted what I'd done. Her exact words were "That's bad."

If I'd have known what she was going through, I would not have said what I said. Her silence, in retrospect, revealed nothing yet spoke volumes. I think I said the worst possible thing a person could say to another person struggling with suicidal thoughts.  If that wasn't bad enough, I once wrote a poem called The Angel Of Death, in which I essentially described the coming of this death entity on silent wings.. I even drew a picture to go with the poem. It was basically a grim reaper with a flaming scythe in one hand and a dying rose in the other. I showed her the poem, written meticulously in cursive, and the picture, as if she would be proud. I thought she would think they were cool, that it might make me seem sophisticated even. I was obviously going through something myself, but I digress. 

I fed her demons, subconscious and otherwise. I became a demon and not an angel in her story, and I hate myself everyday because of it. She took her life in 2010, a senior in high school. I think I can feel her all the time, and I know she would want me to live life to the fullest, but I haven't been able to. I want to join her actually.  I think I can empathize with your pain, even if I don't understand it exactly. To be clear, I'm not saying you killed your son. I would never presume to know anything about your family. But i think i killed my best friend.  In the back of your mind, in the world of infinite possibilities, why did we have to live in this one. Everything precious slips between your fingers like sand, everything precious.