My husband looked the happiest he'd been in years during our big family reunion. I thought he'd finally beaten his depression - then the unthinkable happened
The evening before my husband Franco committed suicide he was smiling in the kitchen as he made pasta with our daughter in preparation for our big Italian family reunion. He couldn't stop smiling. He was talking with his hands again like he used to before three years of depression turned him into a shadow of himself. Later, he told me how much fun he had that night. I allowed myself to hope that maybe, just maybe, he was finally overcoming the demons that had turned our once-happy lives into a constant battle against his dark moods.
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