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When I was in high school, a friend of mine committed suicide. It was shocking, terrifying, unexpected. No one knew what demons haunted him, though in the aftermath, at the funeral, there were whispers. Abuse. Depression. The corrosive power of over-expectation. He used a shotgun; there was an open-casket funeral. I was scarred for life. I still can’t fully imagine what it was like for his mother.
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