My uncle committed suicide when I was about 8. I had only met him once, so his death didn't really mean anything to me, but it fucked up my mother and other members of her family, and it devastated his 3 kids, who were in their mid-late teens when he did it. 2 of the the 3 are now dead themselves, one of his sons died in a San Francisco apartment, probably from suicide, and his daughter died in a car crash after working two jobs, having 2-3 drinks, and falling asleep at the wheel of her car.

My Uncle is buried at Arlington National Cemetery, yet I will always consider him to be a coward and a loser.