2. Talk About Depression

"I don't understand," his father said, "what is there to be depressed about?"
William sighed at explaining it again, "I'm not depressed about anything," he said; "Depression is a state of mind about everything. Like not seeing the point of life anymore."
"So you're suicidal?"
"No," he said a little too harshly, "it's not about suicide, at least for me."
"Well, can't you just be happy with what you've got?"
"No, Dad, I can't," William snapped, "and that's the problem."
"So, uh..." his father struggled, "so it's not anything you have any control over? You're not gonna just snap out of it?"
"I'm afraid not," he sighed. "Depression makes it so damn hard to get anything done. I barely have the energy to get out of bed in the morning, let alone do things like housework or grocery shopping."
"Well your mother and I can help you with that, at least," he offered. "We can bring you some groceries every week. How does that sound?"
"That sounds wonderful," William smiled, happy that his father finally seemed to be trying to understand his problem, at least a little bit. "That would give me an excuse to see you both."
They spent the rest of their lunch chatting and talking about what kinds of groceries he would need, and what day they would bring them over. They decided on Sundays, and mainly microwaveable food like frozen dinners and chicken strips.
"Thanks Dad," William said as they were leaving, "I really appreciate the effort."
"You're my son," he replied, "It's my job to take care of you."
"Well you seem to be beginning to understand it, and that means a lot to me. Thank you."

"I hope to understand it a lot better, so keep talking to me about it, son. Okay?"
"Okay, Dad."