A little over 4 months ago my younger sister took her own life. She had been struggling for so long with Borderline Personality Disorder. She had tried multiple times in the past, but not for a while. We thought she was doing a little better. She was getting treatment across the country where we visited as much as we could. We talked every day, often multiple times a day. She had just moved back home and was applying to school to finish college. She was 27 and had never been able to because of her disorder. She was the most caring, selfless, fun loving, spontaneous, always up for adventure, silly, hilarious, witty, physically beautiful as well with gorgeous dark hair and striking blue eyes. She had another side to her. The disorder. She had trouble regulating her mood, would lash out at little things and overreact. Scream. She would get manic and have panic attacks and was often antsy and couldn’t sit still for long. She got agitated very quickly. At the same time, she would then hate herself for being the way she was. She would always say sorry and felt so horribly when she finally processed that she had just made others feel bad. She hated herself. She felt she was ugly and unloveable.

I loved her with all my heart. Nothing anyone said to her made her feel worth anything. She felt she was not worth saving. I would have not only saved her—I would have died for her in a heartbeat. We were only 10 months apart, but she was my little sister and I was always protective and defended her ever since we were little. She based her value on how others saw her, and she hated what she thought they saw. Any little action that she interpreted as rejection would tear her to pieces—even if that wasn’t the intention. Often people didn’t know she was so hurt by little things they had done. She had always had trouble with friends and reading social cues, as well. A girl she has been friends with since she was 2 who had been distancing herself from my sister because of her outbursts and need for love and not rejection was pushing my sister over the edge.

The night she committed suicide she had gone to dinner and she was happy, and then someone asked her to move to the end of the table. She did, and was unable to hear anything and was totally removed from the social situation and rejected by the party, in her eyes. She got up, went to the bathroom, then went home. She ended up taking a bottle of doxepine and never woke up. The following morning was the worst of of my life. I got a call from my strong, calm father. He was weeping like I hadn’t heard him weep before. Through his screaming and hysterical crying I just heard “she’s gone. Get over here now” and I still didn’t process it but panicked and threw clothes on and rushed over. On the drive over I called my husband and told him the same thing and hung up. I called my dad back and asked which hospital she was going to and he had to repeat over and over that we weren’t going to the hospital. I yelled why and he just couldn’t get through to me. I didn’t want to miss her if they went to a hospital and I went to his house. I rushed past multiple cop cars in front of my dads building and an ambulance and raced up to the apartment. Throwing open the front door I saw policemen awkwardly standing around and my dad hysterical and a mess and it was all a blur. I charged past everyone and into her room. At the sight of her lifeless eyes and hands clenched, I lost it. I sobbed and sat on the floor and said there must be some way to wake her up.

Angrily I asked did they even try to revive her? What were they waiting for. Hours went by and she was in that room. Most of the day. My whole family just in tears, unable to speak. Barely breathing. We couldn’t believe it was true. We all went in and out. I went in after hours and lay next to her. To some this may sound weird, but I didn’t want to let her go and I wanted to stay with her. I smelled her hair one last time, I tried to close her eyes but they wouldn’t close, I held her clenched hand in mine. I hugged her. She was so cold. I noticed her nails and how bitten down they were. She always did that. I kissed her on the forehead and cheek and didn’t want to leave. I finally went into the other room when the first examiners came to the house. I waited and I alternated between crying my eyes out and sitting there staring at the wall in total shock. Then they rolled her out of her room in a black body bag. I lost it. This wasn’t real.

Even though she had been struggling, it seemed to be ok and it was still so sudden. I wish she had called me. I want one more hug, one more kiss, to bury my face in her hair embraced in a bear hug once more. I miss her so much every second of every day and the pain is unbearable. Our family has fallen apart and everyone is suffering beyond belief. I feel like my heart has been ripped in two and I don’t know how to move forward. I hear her voice I try to make myself dream about her but it has only been a couple of times. In one of the dreams I was trying to teach her to fly, oddly enough, but I guess that says a lot..I don’t know..I’m not religious, but if I was I would say she’s the one flying now. I miss her so much it is physically painful. It comes in unbearable waves. Days I don’t believe it happened and that she will call me any minute, or come over to my house, and then there are days I suddenly start bawling my eyes out trying to catch my breathe. I would have died for her in a heartbeat. I would have taken away all her pain in a heartbeat. I would do anything ANYTHING just to have her heart beat again.

I love you, my little bear. I miss you and love you with all of my heart, every second of every day, and I can’t imagine living the rest of my life without you, but I guess I have to try to keep going.
You are my hero and my heart.