I wonder if I might consider again the subject of those men who in the past year have decided they no longer wish to go on with what is to them the impossible process of living.

This may seem a liberty on a Sunday so close to Christmas, a Sunday so close to the end of 1990, a Sunday so close to the possibilities of the declaration of war in the Middle Est.

But I’m writing this piece to see if it is possible to collect more accurate information on those veterans who have decided to leave this world, but taking that decision into their own hands, by becoming their own judge and jury, and by acting as their own executioner; for that is what suicide is really about.

They would argue that if this is reality, then they want no part of it.

For some months now I have racked my brains as to what features these men might have shared even in their deaths.

I would like to present that list today in the hope that somehow it might be able to be expanded upon by those who really know what it feels like, in the genuine hope that it might help some of these who remain to hold on to life or, perhaps even more important, to see meaning in life.

The criteria seemed to read something like this: 

1. They have made several attempts to terminate their lives previously, and have usually discussed this with at least one other person.
2. They have never completely discharged themselves from military service.  By this I mean that not merely do many still wear shirts with epaulettes, but their attitude to life is still one that is essentially military.  Yet at the same time they are socially isolated – unemployed, on benefits and separated or divorced.
3. They have suffered from moderate to severe physical illnesses requiring regular medical attendances.
4. They have usually attended a psychiatrist at some time, but may well not be doing so at the time they make their decision.
5. They have an established record of difficulties in maintaining relationships with the opposite sex, often seeing their only true family as being their fellow veterans.
6. They are usually 50 years old or more.
7. They live in a constant state of preparation for the next attack that their surroundings will make upon them.  They live in the expectation that something terrible will go wrong, and it may well be that their expectation creates their own demand.   
8. They have been totally conscientious, some might say obsessional, in their living.  They possess a great love of order and endeavour constantly to bring order back into their lives to preserve their security.  There is no     room for shades of grey in their lives; they have a preference for the absolutes of black and white, with their boundaries being clearly defined.
9. They have usually had problems with alcohol, and have at some time smoked heavily.
10. The ultimate trigger for what they propose to do appears to everyone else with the wisdom of hindsight to be relatively minor.
11. They have been or are involved with welfare work of one kind or another.

This list is a précis of a much larger document and I genuinely hope that those who might be able to comment on some of those factors, or indeed would like to add to them might communicate with me.

I do this in the hope that maybe more of those who are left behind might be around for Christmas in 1991, for too many who started the journey of 1990 are not with us for this Christmas Day.

Obviously this will be a difficult time for friends and family left behind – and to them I offer my sincere condolences, knowing only too well that the nostalgia of the festive season often services to heighten the pain of unexpected grief.