I am not at any risk for killing myself but I can understand, without condoning, those who do. The pain is just so ever present. Even in laughter and joy the pain of separation is always there.
The first year after Eva died I dragged myself to church every Sunday (don't ask me why, but I did). The songs stuck in my throat. Sunglasses were my ever present companion and my cheeks were chapped from weeping. I would stand there and pinch my arm as hard as I could. Feeling something, anything other than the pain of loss was less painful than the missing of her.
And I can understand why people start to booze or do drugs or kill themselves. Anything, anything to make the pain stop. I'm not there but I can understand it. Understand the emotional desperation that drives people over the edge. Oh yes. I can understand it.