When one loses all hope

I went to the funeral today of an old school mate, a sweet guy with whom I shared many fond memories of playing in the high school marching band--getting up early to make it in time for 7:30 a.m. rehearsals, weekend trips on buses to play at football games, standing out in muddy fields and marking one's spot, and the friendship and comaradarie that go along with it. Although I didn't know him extremely well, I knew him and I remember him with great fondness. He was sweet, funny, considerate, and someone that everyone loved. He was the oldest son of one of my co-workers and I didn't make the connection until yesterday--that he was someone from my past.

On Monday evening he took his own life. He was only 48. I wonder what happened to him that would bring him to such a painful choice. My heart breaks for his mother and family, who all loved him so very much.