my dad cried to me a week before he took his life, he told me that he was addicted and needed help & that he wasn’t going to be here much longer, and not to mention anything to my mom about it because he didn’t want to argue with her.. if only I would have said something, he would still be here. He was my hope, pride and joy. all I could do was sit there, and I didn’t even understand that he didn’t want to be here literally. a month later, he calls me to tell me how much he loves me and how he can’t do it anymore; im 2 hours away at this point pleading to my dad to stay because WE need him. How selfish of me? he had so much to live for, so my darkest secret is that every single day I wish it were me instead.