He lost his job two months ago, she said, starting right away. She spoke as if it were of no great consequence to her. She spoke with the same inflection and emotion she might use while describing a recent trip to the grocery store. It led Rachel to believe that she had yet to completely accept her husbands death, that her brain was still trying to process it all. Wed done a good job of saving over the years, so we were okay. And wed be okay for about a year or so. He started putting his resume out there and going on interviews right away but there wasnt much out there. The few jobs he did get callbacks on would have resulted in massive pay cuts and, though I know it sounds a little pretentious, he would have been far too qualified for these jobs.

What did he do for a living? Jack asked.

He was a copywriter for a marketing firm. Mostly digital projects.

What was his state of mind like before the layoff? Rachel asked.

Not the best. Edwin had always suffered from depression for as long as I knew him. Hed never been hospitalized for it or anything, but he was on meds. They worked most of the time but there would be a few days out of every month or so where he just had this sort of gray cloud around him.

But it didnt affect his day-to-day life?

No, not at all, Hannah said. She chewed on a strawberry for a moment and then added: But still, when I got the call and they later ruled it was a suicide by jumping off the bridge, there was a part of me that really wasnt all the surprised. I know that sounds awful, but…I didnt realize until I got the news that there was a small part of me that had almost expected it to happen sooner or later.

It was a strange comment, but Rachel had to remind herself that it was coming from a woman who seemed not to have accepted the reality of the situation yet. It also made her feel terrible for the woman. What must it be like to see a loved one suffering so badly from depression, but feeling helpless to do anything about it?

Did he ever talk to you about the way he was feeling on the bad days?

We used to talk about it, sure. She pushed her bowl of oatmeal softly away, either having had her fill or too focused on the conversation at hand to properly eat. But for the last year and a half or so, not so much. I didnt mind, though. Hed started going to support groups about it.

Support groups for depression or suicidal thoughts? Jack asked.