Twenty-five years ago, my dad committed suicide when he was 54. I was 19. Why? I demanded. Whywhywhywhywhy?
Three thousand miles away at college at the time, I'd talked to my dad on the phone the day before. Our conversation seemed typical: He'd urged me to do well in school, stay out of trouble, and be nice to my sisters (prompting the requisite eye rolls from me). Only later did I realize he'd been tryi...
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