Pieces solving a puzzle

A friend of mine killed himself two days ago. I’ve known him since I was 3 years old. He was my sweetheart from preschool until the 4th grade. He was one of the few men that I can actually say - with the experience that I have today - that was actually good. He was a good guy. He was kind, he was sweet, he was smart, he cared about others and was always happy to help. He never had a mean word to anyone. He had a stable job, a loving girlfriend he was living with, had bought a nice appartement, had a dog and a cat that he loved very much, and his family always around. And yet, he killed himself two days ago. I don’t know what happened. I don’t understand what happened. I’m still trying to understand that I won’t see his smiling blue eyes ever again. And the fact that he though that there was no way out is heartbreaking. I understand the pain. I’ve been there. But I asked for help. Knowing he felt like he couldn’t because he might have been afraid of being a dead weight to his family and friends, or just because he felt like it was useless is just sad. It’s not fair. He deserved better.