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When I was five years old, my father took himself out in the garage, started the car and then waited to die.
After he lost consciousness, the car must of stopped running. My mother found him on the garage floor, foaming at the mouth.
Since the evidence of a running car wasn't obvious and there were pills on the table, it appeared as though he had overdosed on pills and the EMT folks acted on that suspicion.
It was soon learned he had severe brain damage, and I would never know my father properly.
My dad would end up living a strange life, much of it on the streets. He ended up being murdered years later.
So for me, I just have a hard time accepting or feeling sympathetic when someone attempts or is successful at suicide. I don't feel anger, but I grow very numb and just avoid much thought about it until the event passes.
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