By Warwick Dunnett · 5 min read · June 21, 2026
I am not a licensed counselor. Just a father who has lost a child and felt the pain. If you are seriously considering ending your life and need help, please call a suicide prevention line or speak to a trained therapist.
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Ten years after losing my son, I found myself briefly contemplating death again.
Last night, the evening before Father’s Day, I was sitting at an isolated campsite up in the Sierras by myself. Hidden amongst the Ponderosa Pine trees, a campfire glowing orange, a dark blue sky above me full of stars, one of which my daughter named “Subversive” in honor of her brother.
Looking up at the endless sky, I wondered:
“Can life get any better than this at my age?
Maybe this would be a good time to move on.”
The first time I contemplated life and a possible good exit, was just after losing my boy; it was because I didn’t want to live a life without him, but I didn’t do it. The reason was primarily to avoid inflicting more pain on my daughter, Jacqueline, Harrison’s sister, who had also just turned 20. That would be such a terrible time to lose a father, particularly after losing a twin brother! How could a young woman ever recover from that, and what sort of a father would inflict so much injury on his own daughter? Many say that suicide is a selfish act. In that case, it certainly would have been!
This time, it wasn’t because I couldn’t handle the pain, but instead because I want to be in the same place as my son’s spirit, and I want to see what happens after death. I have recently turned 70, and my daughter, now 29, has moved to New York. Yes, I’ve lost my son. I’ve lost my wife. I’ve lost my house. I’ve lost my family. Nevertheless, I’ve finally finished Dance with Angels, and I’ve lived an incredibly full life of adventure as an author, futures trader, 747 captain and a bush pilot. I have travelled the world, had a wonderful family for 20 years, and loved more than any man should. My life has been blessed in so many ways. But I couldn’t help wondering what the next journey may look like.
I’m not sure how seriously I took the prospect, but once again, I decided not to take any action. There are a number of reasons, but one of which is a thought that came into my mind:
Perhaps life has some adventures ahead of me that I don’t know about; perhaps there’s a surprise around the corner? If that’s the case, I don’t want to miss out on them.
I know the pain that you go through when you lose a child or someone who is a part of you. I still feel it every day, even 10 years later. I empathize with you and feel for you, but I urge you, if you are considering ending it, to remember that there is life beyond the darkness you currently feel (see my "Widening the Lens" Short video on Youtube). A book I once read suggested the following:
If you are ever down. Write down your current feelings of sadness and hopelessness on a piece of paper, and then tear it up as a symbolic gesture to show you that your feelings are just today’s feelings, not necessarily tomorrow’s. Tomorrow, there may be a different set of feelings. Go to sleep, wake up, and realize that every day is a new day. Last night, I did just that.
I woke up this morning, lit a small campfire, brewed some coffee, made some oatmeal, and sat among the Ponderosa pines with the sun on my face… grateful that I get to enjoy one more day.
Warwick Dunnett