Last week I caught a glimpse of a piece of news from the local paper which stopped me from looking through the following pages for a moment: a 26-year-old PhD student at the Beijing University of Posts and Telecommunications committed suicide by jumping from the 13th floor of the university's main building.

I felt somewhat sad, as around eight years ago, my dream of learning in Beijing began at that university. I can visualize the building, the scene, even what the student looked like - a typical engineering student, young, smart, and super hardworking.

Moreover, this 26-year-old is the same age as me.

Tragedies are everywhere and everyday. Every time you watch television or read a paper there is another. But reading the heartbreaking stories of someone losing his life in a traffic accident or dying of an incurable disease is different, there is always a big question mark that lingers in my mind whenever I learn of the suicide of a promising young student.

Unfortunately, this tragedy, just like most suicides that I know, left no answers. But the sudden passing of this 26-year-old reminds me of last summer, when I attended a prayer ritual for another young student who committed suicide.

That dead student surnamed Jia, who studied journalism at Peking University, was also in his twenties. Several days before he got his Master's degree, without any previous sign, he jumped off the balcony of his friend's apartment.

The prayer ritual was held a week later in a downtown temple as Jia was said to be a faithful Buddhist. That day was a typical Beijing summer day, hot, humid and gloomy. I went there with some of my classmates who used to be close with him. We were all dressed in black.

It was the first time I attended prayers in a temple. A year has passed, but I can still clearly remember the moment when the monks in the solemn hall began to read the prayer, big teardrops fell silently down the cheeks of the tall guy who stood next me.

And the single mother kept talking to everyone who comforted her about how difficult it was raising her son by herself, and how she had to save every penny to buy him a piano, and how she made the decision to move to Beijing just to cook for him and take care of him. Then all of sudden, he was gone without any words.

To me, seeing the mother's hopeless eyes was the saddest part of the whole tragedy. Behind every tragic suicide, there is always a heavy and continuous blow to the parents and the family. In China, parents spend everything they can on their children unconditionally.

Most of my foreign friends say Chinese parents are just more demanding, or have higher expectations for their children. But deep in their hearts, most Chinese parents usually have a simple wish, which is, no matter what job their children do or how much money they make, they want their children have a life that is "simple and good".

According to conservative statistics, 63 university students nationwide were reported to have committed suicide in 2008. Research shows that the suicide rate for Chinese college students is much higher than for others in the same age group.

I don't want to discuss the reasons that made these students give up on living in this world. Life is full of obstacles. But I do believe that our post-80 generation, which is termed by some media as the "Me Generation", should have second thoughts before doing anything rash.

The suicide stories just tell the cold truth that the parents' love and devotion was in vain. For the one-child generation a suicide means there is nobody to take care of them when they grow old.

As Tomb-Sweeping Day is approaching, it is the time to mourn those who have passed, but as its also a time when I will recall those grieving parents who lost their children, I just want to send my heartfelt blessings to them, even though the wounds in their hearts will probably never be healed.

Treasure your life, as it is not only yours.