“The pain is excruciating, the pain in mine and my wife’s eyes are too much to bare.”
Edward Lake, the father of three young children killed by a drunk driver in 2015, has died by suicide.
He described the pain of losing his children in a victim impact statement he had a relative read in court for him. “I was looking forward to raising our children and watching them grow up but now that will never be. Because of you, we will live with this horror for the rest of our lives.”
Edward ended his life the day after Father’s Day. His wife wrote a message on Twitter yesterday, “My children’s father, Edward Lake, has joined our kids so they can play together, forever.”
Losing a child in such a meaningless way is soul destroying. Nothing is the same again, not even the sunrise. Everything is a reminder of who isn’t there to share it with you.
I can only sit here now, writing how much I wish Edward’s wife Jenn finds strength beyond measure. This is one of the most heartbreaking stories there can be. Her three children and her father torn from her in a violent crash and her mother was seriously injured. Now her husband is gone as well.
A few years ago I kissed my wife goodbye as she headed off to work and sat alone, wondering how I could end my life. The only thing I was worried about was her finding me. I planned to put a note on the door, asking her not to go in the bedroom but just call the police.
If you haven’t been in that place, spare me the comments about suicide not being a “solution” or being “selfish.” People in that place don’t think like that and it offers nothing to someone who is. They just want today’s pain to end and for tomorrow’s pain to no longer be feared. I’m not here because I’m stronger than Edward Lake, I’m here because I waited an extra day, and then another.
Then I talked about it.
Today the sun is shining as I sit in a park in Toronto writing this post, listening to a child’s laughter coming from the playground beside me. Our world has no better sound than that, even when it comes with memories and longing for yesterday.
I am sorry Edward.