by Kenzy England

Created on: August 24, 2008   Last Updated: October 31, 2008

Suicide is the hardest thing for a family to heal from.

It was 7 p.m. the evening of May 29, 2004 when my sister called to tell me that my Aunt had committed suicide. I remember my legs buckling from beneath me and I went down. I was screaming, "No! Dear God, NO!" I just kept repeating it over and over again as my eyes remained tightly shut, as if trying to wish it away. Then I started thinking about her parents, my grandparents. "What about grandma and grandpa, sis? Oh God....how are they handling this?" Grandma had completely lost it, and I was too many miles away to do anything for her.

My Aunt and her husband had gotten into an argument that day. At some point, as the argument had gotten very heated, she stormed into their bedroom and found their revolver, shooting herself in the head in front of her 14 year old son.

To this day, I am filled with an overwhelming feeling of guilt because she called me three days earlier to tell me how proud she was that my son was graduating from high school. I didn't take her call, nor did I call her back. I had told myself that I didn't want to be kept on the phone for hours, as was the way it always went. I know now that she was crying out for help, and I let her down. It was very selfish of me and I will have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life.

In talking to my sister that night, she told me that it had happened at about 3:00 that afternoon. It occurred to me that was the time I was sitting at the bus station in Dallas waiting for the bus that would take me home following my son's graduation. I was just a few miles away from her when she made that split-second decision that would forever change our family.

So many things were going through my head. I just couldn't understand why: What could possibly be so bad that she felt this was the only way. Why would she do this to her son? He was young, he still needed his mother. Why would she do this to her parents who were devastated beyond anything I've ever seen.

I generally see myself as a fixer. If there's discord in the family, I try to fix it. This wasn't anything I could fix. I couldn't find the words I wanted to say to my grandparents because I was as lost as they were. No words could make this better.

As guilty as I felt, it was soon replaced with anger.

I was so mad at her for what she did, not only to her family but to herself. She didn't even think for a second about what her actions would do to us.

I decided that I would write her a letter and tell her just

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