Cowardice or bravery?

Someone i know jumped in front of a moving train 2 days ago. I found that out yesterday and cannot stop thinking about it. What was going on in his mind? What was the last straw? What changed from the last time I saw him, and he was telling me about his projects of taking the kids he coaches (free neighbourhood boxing program) hiking next summer; to wanting to get crushed to smithereens by a speeding train?
How could he do it? I’ve been thinking about suicide since my adolescence (sexual abuse, undiagnosed depression, no will to live yadiyadiyada) but have never ever been able to do it. So I just do what I know best: push those feelings in and pretend they don’t exist. It works, more often than not.
Sometimes it takes a bottle of wine or two, or getting blind drunk on rhum. And sometimes, like yesterday night, I lay awake in m bed, sadness drowning me, choking me, anxiety taking over, thinking of all that could go wrong and how it could all end swiftly.
My whole life I’ve heard people say that suicide is selfish, cowardly, the easy way out, just a cry for help. But when I think of doing it, I’m not waiting for someone to help me, and it’s certainly not the easy way out. I think it takes courage to face death, to admit to your limitations and stop being resilient. To know what you want and take it: the sweet release of death.