On the morning of March 14, 2015, I lost a piece of my heart. I remember the phone call as if I had received it yesterday. The words my aunt spoke over the line couldn’t have been more traumatizing. “Matt’s dead.
He killed himself,” she said. With those words, my world fell apart around me. Soon after Matthew’s death, I’m ashamed to admit, I felt incredibly resentful.
As much as I tried, I couldn’t understand what led him to such a painful conclusion. Gradually, I came to realize Matt had been struggling with mental illness.
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