I feel you never find closure when someone you love commits suicide.
But when someone you love commits suicide ten minutes after you spoke to them and literally across the street from where you live, that lack of closure seems all the more painful.
When that person had attempted before and you knew it and you knew they were in a dark place...when you know you were the last person to speak to him. When you know you should have done more. It's a burden that feels so heavy and one I carry every moment of my life, unbeknownst to the people in my life.
Missing him is almost overshadowed by the guilt. The guilt eats me inside. I was 14 and now, almost a decade later, I can't come to forgive myself. What he must have been feeling, the magnitude of the pain...it's unthinkable.