Content note: This post contains themes of suicide, and may be triggering for some readers.
Sometime in the morning of May 15, 2009, my dad left my parents’ house for the last time. At noon my mother called me in a panic to tell me dad was gone.
I told her to call emergency, but I knew then we would never see him alive again. For more than 30 years, my dad had struggled with depression. I grew up prohibited from talking about his suicide attempts, his diagnosis or whether or not he was taking his medication.
Dad’s mental health was a forbidden topic.