I heard my dad had taken his own life from a traffic report on the radio.

It was just like any other Wednesday morning. I called my dad for our usual morning chat about a property deal we were looking at, and he seemed desperate to make it happen. Little did I know, that was the last time I would ever speak to him.

That afternoon, I received a panicked call from one of his employees telling me that he had been declared bankrupt and no one could reach him. When I tried to call him, it went straight to voicemail. I started to worry.

I headed to Mayfair to look for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. The only thing that was still there was his car, parked in the same spot he always left it. I asked the porter for the keys so that I could charge my phone, and sat listening to the radio.

Then the news came on, ‘Central Line suspended due to a person on the tracks at Bond Street station.’ Could it be him? No way. I had to go and check just to make sure. I called the British Transport Police from the corner of Grosvenor Square and Duke Street, and it was confirmed that it was him.

I was in shock. I knew things were getting tough, but I had no idea they were this bad. He was so good at hiding it. No one could have guessed what was going on inside this seemingly fearless man.

I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone else, so I called my uncle to do it for me. The news spread quickly, and soon enough it was all over the Evening Standard.

I was overwhelmed by a plethora of emotions: shame, guilt, anger, loneliness, confusion. I couldn’t help but ask myself if I could have stopped it. Could I have picked up on his desperation earlier on? Would he still be here if I had taken his call? These are questions that I now live with for the rest of my life.

Hundreds of people showed up for his funeral, a testament to how much he was loved. I read my eulogy without shedding a tear, talking about the love that surrounded him.

My dad's death left a void in my life, but his memory still lives on.
It was just like any other Wednesday morning when I had my usual daily chat with my Dad on the way to work. We talked about a property deal that he was keen to get done, but the numbers weren't making sense. Little did I know that this would be the last time I ever spoke to him.

That afternoon I received a panicked call from one of his employees, telling me that he had been declared bankrupt and no one could reach him. When I tried to call him, there was no response. Worried, I went to the places he frequented in Mayfair, but Dad was nowhere to be seen.

My last hope was to look for his car in the car park he always parked in. Sure enough, the car was there. I asked the porter for the keys to the car so I could charge my phone, and when I stepped inside I saw his gym kit and golf clubs. I was listening to the radio when suddenly I heard a news report about someone on the tracks at Bond Street Station. Could it be him? I dismissed the thought, knowing that Dad wouldn't even know where the Tube station was.

To make sure, I called the British Transport Police from the corner of Grosvenor Square and Duke Street, and the person on the other end of the line confirmed that it was him. It was a moment I'll never forget, especially since I pass the spot where I made the call every day. The chill I feel now when I think back to that day is something I can't shake.

The police asked me if I had any idea why he might have taken his own life, but I had no clue. My Dad was so good at hiding it - no one could have guessed what was going on inside this seemingly fearless man.

The news of my Dad's death got a lot of attention because of his successful career and connections, and I ended up wearing a balaclava home from work that night in fear of being recognised. I wasn't in a place to tell everyone else, so I asked my uncle to do so.

At his funeral, I read my eulogy without shedding a tear. Hundreds of people had come to say goodbye to him - a clear sign of how much he was loved.

The aftermath of his death left me with a lot of unanswered questions that I still live with today. I often ask myself if I should have picked up on his desperation during our call earlier that day. Could I have stopped it? I'm sure many others impacted by suicide can relate to these same feelings of guilt and confusion.

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