It was a brilliant night. I was out with friends enjoying a post-pizza limoncello and feeling smugly content at the life I had created for myself.

But while I was reflecting on the decision I’d made on my 25th birthday, to quit my job as a newspaper reporter and move to Italy, back in North Dorset a very different scene was playing out.

On March 30, 2009, my older brother, Matt, emptied his trouser pockets of his loose change and divided it equally into three piles of pocket money for my nieces and nephew before leaving his cottage for the very last time.

I have no idea what was going through his head that night as he walked his final walk, made his final phone call and tied that noose around his neck.

All I know is that it was planned right down to the finest detail. He’d gone to a shop and bought the rope; he’d written farewell letters to my parents and sister-in-law; and he’d taken out a pension so the mortgage would be paid off. It was intentional. There was no way this could be written off as a tragic accident.

I try not to dwell on the events of that night because the images are harrowing and if I do revisit them – or, more accurately, my version of what happened – it’s as if an old, healing wound, is being ripped open.

I don’t want to go there but sometimes I just can’t help myself as I try to answer for the umpteenth time the answerless question of ‘why’.

And this week, especially, it plays on my mind because Monday was the 10th anniversary of World Suicide Prevention Day.

While the media overseas marks the day, both in the press and on the radio and tv, it tends to be ignored by our national magazines and newspapers here in Britain.

That’s a tragedy. Because people throwing themselves off Beechy Head or hanging themselves shouldn’t be mere newspaper stuffing only to be forgotten about the next day.

We need to realise that, in the main, these are the actions of desperate people who don’t want to die but see no other way of ending their anguish.

Figures from the Office for National Statistics make grim reading. Every year in the UK twice as many people kill themselves as lose their lives in road traffic accidents.

Suicide is nothing new, dating back to the Greeks and Romans. However, when you have children as young as nine trying to kill themselves in the UK, it’s clear that we’ve got to start tackling the taboo head on.

When we see someone injured in the street, few of us would walk on by. And yet, when someone’s pain is mental, we tend to brush it off, not taking it as seriously as we should.

Bottling up emotions is bad for us because it places our bodies under chronic stress, which has been proved to weaken our ability to fight illnesses. At a more serious level, people don’t talk about their suicidal thoughts out of fear for being mocked or even ignored.

Yes, the National Health Service needs to upgrade its services and make sure doctors, nurses and other health professionals are trained to recognise and deal with suicidal patients. Sadly, awareness of mental health just isn’t a priority.

But I also believe that we, as ordinary members of the wider community, also have a part to play. We need to spot the danger signs in order to voice our concerns to family, friends and colleagues or the regular customer that pops into the local for a swift pint or two all too frequently.

It’s something that the social enterprise Grassroots knows all about, encouraging open, direct and honest dialogue.

It’s also behind Brighton and Hove’s bid to become Europe’s first suicide-safer city, helping to cut suicide rates by involving the community at large.

On Christmas Day 2008, I hadn’t heard of World Suicide Prevention Day but I wish I had because instead of telling my brother to ‘snap out’ of the foul mood he was in and ruining the atmosphere, perhaps I would have recognised that something wasn’t right.

There’s the chance that had my brother heard of World Suicide Prevention Day, he would have told us how he was feeling without thinking like he had to keep the burden to himself.

I like to think I would have recognised that bewildered look in his eye, asked him ‘are you okay?’ and sat down and listened – really listened - to the answer.

Maybe he’d have gone on to tie that rope noose around his neck anyway. Maybe he wouldn’t. Like I said, I try not to think about it because it’s something I’ll never know.

If you are suicidal, call the Samaritans on 08457 90 90 90 or email jo@samaritans.org .

I’m raising money for Winston’s Wish, the UK’s leading childhood bereavement charity. Please sponsor me here