What would compel a man- and a decorated man at that- to take his own life?

Surely columnists and bloggers will expend reams of newsprint and precious bandwidth to contort themselves in trying to explain the religious and moral wages and sociological significance of such an act, but we will never know if anyone captures in precise words and images the murmurs of that which burdened him. Many will toss around the names of Hume, Nietzsche and Schopenhauer, but only one can explain what did him in.

Many will say it is a sin; others will counter that it is an act of bravery. I think it is cowardice: is it not more heroic to stay alive and suffer? But what do I know- I am only a blogger. If we could ask any one who took the plunge, any one who held the cold comfort of a gun to their chest, then we would probably hear them say: "You don't know my name."

Only your own heart can define funny, and only your heart can illustrate tragic. The questions you ask will not necessarily be the same as those we do, and who is to say you have not found the answer?

In the meantime, here we all are: sociable yet desolate, each of us waging our own war, looking for our own separate peace.