One of the things that kept me alive in my younger, depressed days was the thought of what my suicide would do to the people who I loved. My parents and family, friends etc. I’d be dead, it would have no effect on me. But they would spend a lifetime trying to figure out what they could have done to prevent it, why they had missed the cues (if they actually exist), guilt over something they had no real control over.

I have known four people who checked out on their own. One was younger brother who was 17 at the time. His reason was guilt. While in elemschool he and his best friend found a gun at his friend's house and he accidentally shot his friend. He just couldn't live with that. One was a gentleman l worked with at job l had in high school. He was in his 40s. I have no idea what was troubling him. The other two were very good friends of mine, a man and a women, both in their 40s. My brother and l had played music with them, the male for most of a nine year period in the 90s. They were two of the most intelligent people l have ever known. I knew what was bothering each of them, we had talked about it, but l never thought either of them would check out. There is no way to know when someone has had enough. As devastating as it was, it was their choice. While l may not completely understand their choice, it was their choice, and l respect it. I have thought about making that decision a couple of times, but told myself that choice is always there; so let's just see if things get better, and they did. I see no right or wrong in this. It just is what it is.

Sometimes the people most out there are the ones most at risk, it isn't always the quiet ones.
I'm with you on the comments by family or people who "knew" her.