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It was cold night of January 1st of 2017 when my world shattered into pieces.

It was

supposed to be the time at which a new calendar year begins, but not for me, a catastrophe of my

life began.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I was hurt that's why I said those words. The pain is still here. Please,

don't leave us here, I beg you, Grace," my father said, kneeling in front of my mother.

"No, I don't love you anymore! I don’t need you anymore! I’ll go back to Qatar now. Take care

of our children," my mother replied obnoxiously, packing her things into a black luggage.

"I know everything, Grace. Every man you messed around in there. And now, you are again

flirting with another guy. I know it. Why do you have to do this to me, to us? I’ve forgiven you

several times," he shouted as his eyes were swimming with tears.

He hit the wall hard with his fist. He smashed an elbow into the room’s door. I could see

through my father's eyes how he loved her truly, deeply and madly. Our bedchamber was

surrounded by melancholic ambience. My tears rolled down my cheeks. I couldn’t move. I

couldn’t help. I couldn’t say a word. My world stopped momentarily.

Then, my father ran hastily in the kitchen. I knew what he wanted to do at that moment.

I followed him, but I was too late.

I saw him with a sharp knife in his hand. In just a fraction of a second, he stabbed his

lower abdomen vigorously.

I saw it. I saw it. I saw it.

It seemed that everything hurt so much. In his second attempt, I quickly motioned towards him,

and tried to steal the knife. Without hesitation, I clasped the blade from him, but he was too
strong. My hands were sore. It was as though I was gambling my life with death. I didn't care

anymore if something bad was going to happen. If it was the only thing to save his life, I would.

I screeched that moment. I shrilled for a help but no one heard me. I could see in his eyes that he

was fully decided to cut his life.

"My life would be worthless without your mama, Eyan," he murmured, trying to hit himself

while I was taking it from his right hand. His voice was as sharp as a gutting knife.

“We are here, papa! Please don’t do this to us,” I responded, screaming.

I prayed to God to help me in rescuing my father from ending his life and to give him

another chance to live. Then without a second, he answered my prayer. I shouted for the last

time, then my uncle and grandmother came along.

“Get out of here,” my uncle yelled at me.

He tried to take off the sharp thing in my father's hand with a great force. While he was

doing so, I saw mom, leaving. She fixedly stared at me for about three seconds then went straight

to her way. It grates my soul. It felt like my entire world left behind me. I, too, wanted to

disappear completely. But I reminded myself that I should be brave, optimistic and strong to face

this cruel world.

Finally, my uncle got the knife. Drops of blood started streaming down the floor. Ten

seconds passed, and then twenty and thirty, he finally lost his consciousness. My grandfather

hurried to start up the car engine. My uncle carried him on his shoulder. As my grandfather was

concentrating on the way, I was nervous, shaking and terrified. I was still clueless about how

those things happened. I thought those scenarios will only be seen in televisions. I absorbed the

trauma. It felt like the pain swallowed my entire body.

According to experts Michelle Moskos, Jennifer Achilles, and Doug Gray, causes of

suicidal distress include psychological, environmental and social factors. Mental illness is the

leading risk factor for suicide. Suicide risk factors vary with age, gender, ethnic group, family

dynamics and stressful life events. According to a 2016 fact sheet distributed by the National

Institute of Mental Health, research shows that risk factors for suicide include depression and

other mental disorders, and substance-abuse disorders (often in combination with other mental

disorders). More than 90 percent of people who die by suicide have these risk factors. The risk

for suicide frequently occurs in combination with external circumstances that seem to overwhelm

at-risk people who are unable to cope with the challenges of life because of predisposing

vulnerabilities such as mental disorders. Suicide is a relatively rare event, and it is difficult to

accurately predict which persons with these risk factors will ultimately commit suicide. 

As we got to the hospital, three nurses carefully put him into the emergency bed. It was

saddening to think that I had celebrated my first night of the year at the hospital. I couldn’t act

normal. It was exactly 10:03 pm when the doctor updated us with his condition.

"Your father is in 50-50 state. We need to operate him, as soon as possible."

My heart and mind were trembling that time. The parents of my father entered the room

with a look of disappointment. They wrapped me with their arms, and asked what happened. I

narrated the story with a calm voice.

Love is number one reason for suicide: experts say

Love may be the first thing that a person considers when entering a relationship, but it is

also the number one reason why one commits suicide, a marriage and family counselor said.

Citing studies and personal experience with patients, Maribel Dionisio of Love Institute
Philippines said love -- or lack of love -- is usually what causes a person to decide to end his or

her life. Dionisio made the statement as two suicide killings in separate malls in a span of a week

sent security experts and parents into a frenzy. "More specifically, the risk of suicide among

divorced men was over twice as likely as that of married men, whereas in women, there was no

statistical difference in married and divorced women." Men experiencing a divorce have a higher

suicide rate than women

Here’s the story behind the bloody night:

It started when I abruptly discovered that mom had a forbidden affair with another man that had

begun on the internet. In point of fact, I caught her cheating for the fourth time. I questioned her

several times, but she kept on refusing to admit the truth, the reality. Every lie was a new wound,

a new scar added to the collection of my emotional pain. I could barely grasp that it was the

beginning of the suffering and the endless grief that was store for me. At first, I tried to conceal

her for the sake of our family. In all honesty, never did I imagine to live in a broken family. And

for this reason, I shut my mouth off. 

I was dumb, terrified and confused. 

Still, I kept everything inside my own universe. Again, I convinced myself that the guy

was just another friend of her. If being a mute was the only way to save this family, then I'd do it.

The night of October 09, 2017, papa earnestly queried me why he cannot send messages

to my mom's messenger. As I manipulated the phone, I was blindsided to find out that he was

blocked by my mom. At that moment, I can't find the right words to explain everything to papa.

This time, I felt a sharp pain in my chest. It was unbearable. If I had explained it, I would've

wasted my time to make everything easy to understand. He's not a tech geek. Promptly, the tears
burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down my face. I could see on his gesture that he was

clueless why I cried heavily. 

"Mama has another man in Qatar,"

Without a second, I said those words unconsciously. Perhaps I was too tired to hide

everything to him.

Papa constrained to paint a sweet smile on his face, and said, 

"I know everything. I just don't want you and your brother to know this. If only I didn't allowed

her to go in there, it wouldn't happen. I am sorry that I failed to keep this family." His voice

sounded more pained than anything. We both wept in the midst of the night. Perhaps these salty

drops would help us to mend our broken souls.

I could see in his eyes that he was trying to be strong to face it gallantly. After the

dramatic session, we decided to cut our communication with her.

Every day then, we, my brother and I, were always showing how much we love our dad.

We made cards. We gave gifts. We sent everyday sweet messages. Every day is a new chance to

get things right, to sow the seeds of love. We need to adjust. We need to move forward. We need

to accept that there are certain things in life that we could never control. Life must go on even

though we've been hurt. We must find ways to get through it.

But when November 28th of 2017 came, someone knocked three times on the door in the

middle of the night. I felt strange. I felt uncomfortable. I knew it. It was her . . . my mother. Only

my brother enveloped her tightly. But I just locked myself in my dusky room, and ignored her.

My eyes began to swell, and turned red.

"We are okay now. I hope she would disappear now," I murmured indignantly.
With each passing day, she tried to get our hearts again. She exerted much effort to be a

hands-on mother to us like doing the laundry, ironing our clothes, preparing breakfast and other

chores that a typical mothers do. On my special day, she heartily prepared a simple celebration

which I celebrated with my classmates. Thereafter, we, including my father, had forgiven her.

The pain vanished as we hugged each other. Everyone deserves a chance. Perhaps giving her a

chance would make everything right.

But I thought everything was already perfect. I was deceived by sudden happiness. On

the 30th day of December, I caught him talking to a man via messenger’s videocall outside the

house. I thought she has already changed, but I was wrong. A pair of tears raced down my

cheeks as I went to my room. I couldn't explain what I was feeling that time. My heart was badly

hurt. Again, I was terrified to ruin our family so I closed my mouth off.

As we celebrated the New Year’s Eve, happiness unleashed the brokenness inside me. I

tried to forget what I have accidentally discovered, all the pain.

And after the night of happiness, glee turned into tragedy.

I spent one week and a day in the hospital.

“He needs five bags of blood, “the doctor said.

“It was depression who tried to kill your father,” he added with a gloomy face. I asked

for help in my college classmates, but no one was capable of donating. After a day, lot of my

papa’s friends visited him, and donated blood.

Research has consistently shown a strong link between suicide and depression, with 90%

of the people who die by suicide having an existing mental illness or substance abuse problem at

the time of their death. A major cause of suicide is mental illness, very commonly

depression. People feeling suicidal are overwhelmed by painful emotions and see death as the
only way out, losing sight of the fact that suicide is a permanent "solution" to a temporary state

—most people who try to kill themselves but live later say they are glad they didn't die.

Depression and depressive illnesses are classified as mood disorders in the medical field,

including everything from Major Depression to Dysthymia. They have a number of symptoms

that affect people socially, occupationally, educationally, interpersonally, etc. A person living

with depression does not always have the same thoughts as a healthy person. This chemical

imbalance can lead to the person not understanding the options available to help them relieve

their suffering. Many people who suffer from depression report feeling as though they’ve lost the

ability to imagine a happy future, or remember a happy past. Often they don’t realize they’re

suffering from a treatable illness, and seeking help may not even enter their mind. Emotions and

even physical pain can become unbearable. They don’t want to die, but it’s the only way they

feel their pain will end. It is a truly irrational choice. Suffering from depression is involuntary,

just like cancer or diabetes, but it is a treatable illness that can be managed.

We patiently waited outside the operating room. After couples of hours, the doctor

approached us and said,

“The operation is successful. He just needs three days to rest."

Tragedies often surprise us. Sometimes it’s not always right to fix something broken. I

couldn’t deny that until now I am still in the process of moving on. It takes time to fully mend a

broken soul. But today, it’s time to start my life anew, and trust the magic of beginnings. The

world may bring deep darkness, but the fear evaporates when we believe that our stories were

written by the same hand.