I got an email today morning from my friend V.

It said he was 33 years old. A bright guy who had just finished his PHd in one of the top universities in the USA. On his department webpage they said he was the '10 to be watched' in the future. He was supposed to be the kind of guy who was surrounded by people who liked to like him. One of those souls who just didn't want to trouble anyone. He had a girlfriend and they were hoping to get married one day. He had two sisters (older than him) and his parents. I saw his photograph today. He looked as intelligent as they said he was. They said he developed a backache which just refused to go away, 6 months back. He had all the tests done and the doctors said there was nothing wrong. He seemed ok - that's what everyone said. And he died a couple of weeks ago. He committed suicide.He was my friend's younger brother.

Each and everytime I hear of suicide it just rattles me. Of course, I feel bad for the person who died but, I feel more for the family left behind. There are days when I sense anger within me when I think people who die of illness at an age when they should be in the 'prime of their lives'. But, suicide...it fills me with a sense of anguish. For the family, for the person's friends and in this case his girlfriend. I have seen the devastation it causes. It's just horrible.

Why did V's brother's have to die? Sure, I know I can rationalise and say , it was a major depressive episode and suicide is a part of severe depression, isn't it? If he had been on anti-depressants he would have been alive today. Maybe. But the not-so-rational-part-of-my-mind grapples with existential questions.It clouds my thinking at times. What are his parents thinking? Guilt? Anger? Hopeless? Why?

I have written about this before, just around the time I started blogging. And like I said earlier,news like this, rattles me...completely.
And,V's brother - I hope you have found the peace that eluded you in your short life.