As a writer, I am inspired by many things, most especially stories. I also happen to be an artist, nurse, a wife and a mother of 5. No matter what occupation or degree we hold, essentially we are life-long students afforded a daily opportunity to learn lessons that teach our souls. Some lessons are clear and concise. Others seem like glass shards that stab deep into our souls; these lessons take on a life of their own, almost begging to be told.

Allow me to tell you a story about Ryan, a 27-year-old man I never met, whose story I can never forget. To hear him tell his story in his own words would be nothing short of riveting. Sadly, this cannot and will not ever happen.

A recent post on Dana's Facebook page delved into who Dana Andrews WAS and who Dana Andrews now IS. [This post is available both at (Facebook.com/iamdanaandrews/) as well as in a previous blog entry entitled "I am...YOU."] I believe that when we can relate to another's struggles and their healing, we fare better in our own recovery. Most of the people who read my blog, Facebook page and hopefully soon, my book (Room in the Heart; Surviving a Childhood Undone, Fulfilling a Pact to Love) haven't met me and didn't share my almost 40 years of abuse that led to 3 suicide attempts. For my readers to relate to my words, I feel it essential I share elements of my life before, during and after my abuse.

The aforementioned wall post on Facebook surprisingly brought over 1,800 "likes," "shares" and heartfelt comments. Many wrote that they could relate to living through a childhood of horrible abuse, only to find themselves repeating the pattern and marrying an abuser. Many expressed gratitude for my sharing my circumstances because it allowed them to realize they were not alone in having had an abusive past. A few spoke of great appreciation that I was alive to tell my story so that I could use it to prevent others from succeeding in committing suicide. One comment, however, shook me to my core. It spoke a language all hearts understand. The implications were so clear to me; I not only HAD to find an appropriate response, but moreover, this comment was born to become a blog entry. The gravity of this post was huge.

It began with, " I wish my son were still here to read this..." THEN came the clincher... "My son completed suicide on easter morning, April 5, 2015... His depression was deeper than he ever lead me to know... I now see my daughter suffering the loss of her brother- her best friend. She was the first to hear and see the awful nightmare... My son touched so many people from all different walks of life...everyone loved him..."

NOW she REALLY had my attention. She went on to elaborate where for him, things began to unravel, sharing "He met a young lady...and it went downhill from there.... Soon they became parents...[This was] the proudest moment of his life. He lived for his son, but things didn't work out and he lost touch with his 10-month-old baby. He wanted to be a father to his son...

Then came the saddest words of all; "My son took his life [after his realization he wouldn't be a part of his son's life.] He didn't want to live another day without his son... "

Here you see it in plain print. Suicide is real. I can surely relate because I almost ended my life on three separate occasions. It is said suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. For those who are in the depths of depression, it is a permanent solution to horrible, unending emotional (and sometimes physical) pain. Depression, while isolating, fools us into believing we are a burden and there is no hope for happiness anywhere in our future. Fortunately, in my case, I was able to find wonderful, talented therapists who literally saved my life. That is not always an option. Unfortunately, when some are drowning in the depths of depression, they are too worn out and torn down to seek help. They are simply tired of living. This is when we finally find the one thing that will bring us a measure of comfort; a way out. This "way out" for one becomes a life sentence of agony and grief for those they have left behind.

If only Ryan were not the posterchild for what can happen when depression spirals out of control. If only Ryan could have known if he sought help there would be others to listen and help him. If only Ryan's son could grow up knowing his daddy, and moreover, knowing that his daddy loved him too much to live without him.

If only there weren't SO MANY "if only's!"

So... Where do we go from here? Ryan's mother JoAnne goes to sit by his grave. She visits him to remind him that her love for him never, ever wavered. We all-too-often assume our loved ones know we care. Of course, we care, but sometimes that doesn't prevent a suicide. It is important for us to know there are available resources (hospital emergency rooms, crisis, and suicide hotlines to name a few,) to assist someone in crisis. More than anything, from my experience, I can tell you this: you cannot tell a depressed, suicidal person "I love you," too much. You cannot say, "You matter and I cherish you" enough. Especially to those who are not wired to understand the underpinnings of the suicidal/depressed mentality, know this: when life seems too painful to bear, when you see no way to move forward, and when nothing brings you joy, the circuits all run in the same direction. Every message from your brain convinces you to take that final step. This, right here, is the last chance for anyone to intervene. This is where "YOU MATTER AND I WILL BE HERE FOR YOU NO MATTER WHAT" can literally make all the difference between life and death.

These days, JoAnne reminisces, "My son now lives on through others... I knew how much of a giver he was in life and I continued that after his loss with the gift of life... I'm hoping that the recipient who received his eyes (corneas) can see a much brighter world than my son...❤"