About thirty years after my classmate committed suicide I was serving as the pastor of a church. One evening I was working late in the office when the phone rang. On the other end of a line was a man who told me that he had a chronic health problem, was an addict, and lived with his elderly mother who he fought with all the time. The man felt hopeless and was thinking about killing himself.

I got the man’s address and went to his house. He talked with me for a long time telling me all his problems. He promised me he would not kill himself that night.

In the days and weeks that followed I developed a relationship with the man. I helped him get as much medical treatment for his health problem as an uninsured person with a reputation as an addict can get. I invited him to church and introduced him to some of the church members hoping the connections would ease his loneliness and pain. I visited with his mother and tried to help resolve some of the issues between him.

After a few weeks the man seemed stabled and had a much better outlook on life, or so I thought. One night I received a call at home from the man’s mother. She told me she had come home to find her son hanging from a rope in his closet. He was dead.

I rushed over to their home to talk with the man’s mother. As I tried to comfort and console her she screamed at me, blaming me for not doing enough to prevent her son’s death. Though I knew I’d done everything I could to help her son I learned something very important that night. We have to work together to prevent suicide. Preventing suicide is not just one person’s responsibility, it’s everybody’s responsibility.