My worst trauma, and what I currently see as the most significant event in my life, was the suicide of my eldest son. On St. Patrick's Day of 1987, Richard Warren Thomson, then 28, decided to jump off a bridge in Charleston, South Carolina. His body washed up ten days later.

Let me go back to the beginning. My family of origin was a mixed bag of tricks, but all five of us --mother, father, two older sisters and I-- seemed to experience anger and rage as a natural state. As far back as I can remember, I wanted to get out of that family and go elsewhere, anywhere I could get to.

I married at 23, before I graduated from law school. I was plenty immature. Children came quickly. Richard was born in 1958, Karen in 1959, Lauren in 1962 and Scott in 1964.

The marriage, though, wasn't working and I went for some counseling help. In 1967 my wife and I divorced. I moved from the suburbs into the city of Chicago and changed careers from a bank trust department officer to a poverty law program attorney.

For the first time in my life, I experienced a sense of my own identity. It may also have been my first bipolar experience, since I thought at the time that I could single handedly solve the world's problems. I know that I have always struggled with depression and have tried just about every antidepressant ever made, starting with drugs that are no longer in use. I began therapy before the divorce and have continued it (with some gaps) ever since.

Working in poverty law was fascinating, but I only stayed for a year. I did, though, continue working in some capacity with charitable organizations for the better part of fifteen years. After that, I had what I call a "mountaintop" experience --a new awareness, perhaps-- that led me to enter seminary. In retrospect, this may actually have been a second bipolar incident.

The period that followed was filled with a mixture of enormous tragedy and some joy. Evelyn Opoku and I met early in 1986 and were married in late September of that year. It was the best wedding I ever attended, and that is a nice thing for a groom to be able to say.

But my mother died just a few weeks before the wedding, on Labor Day. Two months later, my daughter's father-in-law killed himself. And the next thing I knew, in March 1987, there was that awful phone call from Richard's wife telling me the terrible news about him. Notwithstanding the good start we gave ourselves, my marriage to Evelyn did not work out and ended in divorce in 1995.

About a year before his death, Richard experienced a psychotic episode and was hospitalized. I don't think I ever fully understood how ill he was. He was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and may have also been schizophrenic. After he was discharged from the hospital he went back to work part-time. He seemed to be improving. That turned out to be very wrong.

The first few years after Richard's death, I more or less denied the whole experience. I didn't let it in, or anyone else for that matter. But however long I shielded myself from the painful reality of his illness, Richard's suicide just pulled the rug out from under everything I thought and believed.

There was plenty of mental illness and substance abuse up and down the family line. All of that had a role in my NAMI volunteering. I came to NAMI at the suggestion of a friend in about 1999. At the time I may have been between jobs or job hunting or just looking for a better way to spend my free time. I started out with data entry and stuffing envelopes and finally graduated to the Helpline, where I have been ever since. I have never been sorry.

When I am on the Helpline, I can identify. I can be solicitous, respectful and a listener, I can be supportive and affirming. There are opportunities to express myself, my attitudes, beliefs and faith over and over again. There is a great deal of satisfaction and even joy in all of that.

Life goes on. Richard's wife has remarried. She still lives in South Carolina and has two children. My daughter Karen is married with three sons and lives in Florida. My other daughter Lauren also has three boys; she and her husband live in Wisconsin. My youngest, Scott, is a lawyer and lives here in New York City with his wife and their two-year old daughter.

But I guarantee you I will always miss Richard.

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