My dad was bipolar, and he fought as hard as he could against it every single day. It ultimately beat him, despite having a dedicated family and other resources at his disposal. I am devastated that my smart, strong, loving father was constantly eclipsed by these demons, and our family often felt helpless in the face of it. He alienated friends, was erratic in dealing with his affairs, and vacillated between the highest of highs and lowest of lows - at times hourly - but at the heart of it, my dad was still my dad, and as powerless as I often felt in getting through to him, sometimes, I did, and it was important to me that he never felt alone. Mental illness is complex, frustrating, distressing, exhausting - for the person suffering, and for those trying to be there as a support structure. He took his own life, with no warning or cry for help, and I will always question whether I could have done more, how I could have prevented this, why he chose this path, even though I know there are no answers that will give me peace.