He Hanged Himself in the Morning

We may enjoy our room in the tower, with the painted walls and the commodious bookcases, but down in the garden there is a man digging who buried his father this morning, and it is he and his like who live the real life and speak the real language. Virginia Woolf My dad killed himself today. He hanged himself in the morning. I’m not sure what to say, what to feel, what to write, or if writing…