Time heals all wounds... kind of

Last night, I was asked to share my story at the local footy club.

It’s something I’ve done dozens of times, and when the request was made, I didn’t bat an eyelid.

I knew what to say… I know my story… and I’ve done it before…

But as I shared my story… finding my way to my Dad’s death… that familiar lump in my throat started to emerge.

It had been a while between drinks and I’d forgotten how taxing these talks can be… I’d forgotten how much of a mark my Dad’s death has left on me.

I’ve thought about my Dad every single day for sixteen years, and while the pain isn’t there day to day… I still miss him every day… and as I found out… again… that pain doesn’t go away.

The pain I felt in last nights talk reminded me that his death was preventable… and while that pain will forever live as a tragic irony of why he made the wrong decision… his legacy is a reminder that suicide is preventable.

No one is destined for suicide.

We never forget it, but sometimes we’re reminded of how important our community is. We know we’ve helped prevent suicides already and we know we’re fair dinkum about reaching zero suicides in the ACT.

But what last nights talk reminded me of this… the beauty of our pursuit holds that every life we save on the way to a suicide-free Canberra is worth all the effort we’ve put in so far.