Once an English professor said that more suicides happen in early April, not because of holidays but because springtime is supposed to be the promise of something better. Cherry blossoms, more sunlight, everyone looks forward to this in the winter. For a depressed person, though, it doesn't give hope (unless you have the Seasonal Affective Disorder, I think that's what it's called.) Squashing of hope leads to despair, thus the suicides.
I don't suffer from clinical depression, though I can feel low at times. I do find less joy in April than I used to. I lost two grandparents in April. I took Cinnamon home on 10th April 1993. Now that he's gone it only makes me sadder. My least favorite UK trip took place in April (1999: It's just hard to enjoy oneself when one is absolutely broke and unemployed!)
There are some good moments left, though. Bon's anniversary is this month, I was first exposed to Bohemian Rhapsody, thus turning me into a Queen fanatic, this day in April 1992, and my vacation last April was really nice.
Still, they don't make Aprils like they used to.