I have had an uncommon acquaintance with suicide throughout my life. My first direct experience of death occurred when I was about 11, when I discovered that the man in the car parked in front of our house (at the dead end of a gravel road) had committed suicide, attaching a vacuum cleaner hose to the exhaust pipe of the car and putting the other end into the driver's side window and rolling up the window. I still remember how bloated and purplish his face was. Then a dear friend, whom I had talked out of suicide several times, killed herself one Easter Sunday night, after having her family and mine over for dinner. Then, my stepdaughter Jennifer's husband killed himself in their basement some years ago, leaving behind two sons who are now in their teens.
And this is but a partial list.
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