I just lost both of my brothers to suicide. My family is very close, especially us siblings. I’m the oldest and only girl. My brothers were my best friends, we talked every day. The first brother to pass was 17 years old. Then, exactly 4 weeks later to the day, my 23 year old brother also passed. We had all been talking and open about our grief and thoughts about suicide to protect each other. We kept encouraging my brother to get counseling/therapy, we were all looking out for each other. I don’t know why this is happening but I’m the only sibling left… They were so young and won’t get to experience so much.
Category Archives: Guest Post
For Marcus
Between each heartbeat I think of you.
You were the first real person I loved outside of our parents.
I thought you would be here forever. Long after I’d gone. I never contemplated you going. Now you’re gone. Before mom and dad. Before aunts and uncles. Before me.
I don’t want to be here without you. I don’t want to have to mourn our parents without you. We were supposed to help each other through that.
It feels as though I’ve lost a part of myself. When you were alive I knew (I just knew) there was a piece of me that was out there in you. Now there’s just a hole.
You are gone. You are not gone. I feel like I’m living two realities. I feel as though I’m reaching for something I will never find. I’m trying to grasp something that isn’t there.
My dear little brother. I know you’re at peace now, but the peace brought by that realization is so fleeting.
I miss you. I love you.
One week 💔
One week you have been gone Scott… my heart is breaking…you took your life… things are in slow motion… not sure how to navigate through this…. I can’t sleep….
Two days, two weeks, two years
In two days, it will have been two years since the last time I saw you alive. In two weeks, it will be two years since you left us. My baby brother.
Nearly two years without you. It feels like yesterday. It feels like a lifetime ago. It feels like it never happened, and it feels like it happens over and over whenever I remember you’re gone. Whenever I dream about you and wake up and realize you’re still gone. You left. You gave up. You’re never coming back.
I’m still angry at you. The guilt that I wasn’t there for you still overwhelms me. The sorrow that you were alone in your last moments suffocates me.
How did we not know? Why couldn’t you tell us? Why couldn’t you tell me? What triggered you? What broke the camels back? Why didn’t you leave a note? Why didn’t you explain? Why, two years later do we still not know why you did this?
You could have come to me! You knew about my attempt when I was 16. You knew about my mental health struggles. You knew that I had gotten help! I would have helped you get help! I wouldn’t have shamed you, or told you just to pray about it. I would have just loved you, and helped you find the help you needed. Hell, I would have offered to pay for it if you needed it! I would have done anything to still have you here with us.
Dad, Jen and I are trying to move on. We’re trying to keep living and pursuing our lives. But I think mom’s giving up. You’re still her favorite. She’ll never admit it, and refuses to see it. Two years later, She still sleeps with your stuffed manatee from when you were a kid. She’s still looking for someone to blame. It changes every time I talk to her, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re gone.
I read a book the other day where one of the characters lost her brother almost exactly how we lost you. It wrecked me. I threw the book and lost myself to the grief again.
I feel selfish. Your pain, tiredness, anger, whatever led you to take your life must have been so overwhelming. But here I am, complaining about how it’s affected me. I feel justified though, because whatever you were facing is over now. But the pain you left me with. The abandonment, the loneliness, the missing you, I still have to live with. Everyday. And then I feel selfish again, and hate myself for not being with you. For not helping carry whatever burden felt like too much for you. That’s what big sisters are supposed to do. We’re supposed to life the burdens of our siblings. We’re supposed to help guide them. To show them our mistakes and how to avoid them.
Michael. I miss you. I love you. I hate you. I grieve you.
The Day That Will Change Me Forever
Today is the day I lost my only brother. How did I not know that you were hurting so deeply? What could I have done differently? This morning was the morning you decided to end your pain forever. I wish I could have helped you find a different way to make the hurt disappear. Today is the day that a piece of me, a piece that grew with me for 38 years, is gone forever.
Dear Daniel
It’s been so long, buddy, a full year and a half without you. I still am in a denial I think I never really will be able to comprehend why and why that night. I wish so badly that we can unlock your phone still and I am a little mad you left without saying goodbye, you had no note with you. This brings me back to my denial I can’t accept that you are gone buddy I think everything I’ve done so far even made it seem ok by saying if I do it I’m doing it for you like nursing school hopefully I finish this year or like one day opening up Daniels Health, maybe these just make me feel better but I hope you’re proud. I know you are in peace and I hope that heaven is truly the happiest place on earth. I still cry every day sometimes more than once but there are always times when I am with the rest of the siblings and everything is ok I know you are with us when were all together. Things have gotten crazier in a way that inflation has begun like crazy, I think it is ok since hopefully ill be rich soon, I just wish you could’ve seen all what the future will hold and what will change I wish you can come and hug me again like the time I gave you your LV wallet if I had known that would be the last gift I would buy you the world buddy. I hate myself so much for not knowing better I don’t think I will ever forgive myself for our little arguments and the times I put friends before you but I hope you know everything I do is for you I miss you more than anything and if I could I would go back in a heartbeat. I’m going to be 21 soon which is exciting but so scary since you were only 21 when you left this earth buddy. I know you are two years older than me but in some aspects, I felt as though I was your older sister and I failed you and I am so sorry. I will continue working on myself and give Laib, Yusa, and Marii the life your would’ve wanted. I hope heaven is a breath of fresh air for you and I hope your experience endless amounts of happiness love you so much, buddy.
Birthday Depression- Another year without you
Today is my 29th Birthday and the survivor’s guilt is consuming me. I lost my little brother to severe paranoid schizophrenia and suicide on January 27th, 2020, just 3 days before his 25th Birthday. All of the holidays have been extremely difficult, but the month of January is the most painful for me. My brother and I were polar opposites, he was so lawfully good that he never so much as received a parking citation in his short life and would literally give the shirt off of his own back to someone in need. He was an Eagle Scout, and volunteered a lot of his time towards the betterment of our community. He was so kind, compassionate, and caring. I often think that he was too good for this world. On the other end of the spectrum, there’s me- a recovering heroin addict that wasted my life as a young adult as my addiction consumed me and caused my loved one’s inexplicable suffering, especially my mother and little brother. I was living a life of overindulgence, filled with my own self-created hedonism and debauchery and chose vice over virtue many times. My brother was my moral compass and supported me unconditionally, he never gave up on me. We were only one year apart and he was my best friend and confidant. I have my own share of mental illnesses- major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, insomnia, a history of substance abuse, and PTSD. I can’t help but to think that I should’ve been the one to develop schizophrenia and take my own life, not my brother. Why do the good always die so young?
Why should I get to live another year on this earth instead of my brother? If I could have taken his place I would have in a heartbeat. I should have noticed the warning signs and saved him. The reality is that no matter what I could’ve changed the outcome would have still been the same. There is a strong correlation between schizophrenia and suicide, the voices inside of my brother’s head were like a choir from Hell dragging him down to his own Dante-esque levels of purgatory.
These are all of the would’ve, could’ve, should’ve and what if’s that accompany complicated bereavement and survivor’s guilt. I know they are irrational and that I shouldn’t blame myself for his death. There will always be a part of me that feels like I failed him though.
I know my brother wouldn’t want me to feel this way on my own birthday. All he ever wanted for me was to be sober and happy. In a really screwed up way, his death saved me from myself. As soon as I found out he left this mortal realm all of my cravings for opiates and self-destruction completely vanished from my mind and soul. I give myself permission to grieve today but will not let it consume me. Writing this has been so cathartic. I will salvage the rest of today and focus on the positive aspects of my life. I know that part of my brother’s spirit will always remain within me, and that he is watching over me. I will continue to stay sober, cherish all of the precious memories I was fortunate enough to experience with my brother and never let go of the hope and faith inside of my heart. Time does not heal all wounds necessarily, grief is a nonlinear process. I have learned to take it day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, and second by second. I have found acceptance in my brother’s decision to take his own life, because I know he is finally at peace. I owe it to him and myself to cultivate my own inner peace, love, and happiness. Perspective is key.
Why should I get to live another year on this earth instead of my brother? If I could have taken his place I would have in a heartbeat. I should have noticed the warning signs and saved him. The reality is that no matter what I could’ve changed the outcome would have still been the same. There is a strong correlation between schizophrenia and suicide, the voices inside of my brother’s head were like a choir from Hell dragging him down to his own Dante-esque levels of purgatory.
These are all of the would’ve, could’ve, should’ve and what if’s that accompany complicated bereavement and survivor’s guilt. I know they are irrational and that I shouldn’t blame myself for his death. There will always be a part of me that feels like I failed him though.
I know my brother wouldn’t want me to feel this way on my own birthday. All he ever wanted for me was to be sober and happy. In a really screwed up way, his death saved me from myself. As soon as I found out he left this mortal realm all of my cravings for opiates and self-destruction completely vanished from my mind and soul. I give myself permission to grieve today but will not let it consume me. Writing this has been so cathartic. I will salvage the rest of today and focus on the positive aspects of my life. I know that part of my brother’s spirit will always remain within me, and that he is watching over me. I will continue to stay sober, cherish all of the precious memories I was fortunate enough to experience with my brother and never let go of the hope and faith inside of my heart. Time does not heal all wounds necessarily, grief is a nonlinear process. I have learned to take it day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, and second by second. I have found acceptance in my brother’s decision to take his own life, because I know he is finally at peace. I owe it to him and myself to cultivate my own inner peace, love, and happiness. Perspective is key.
A Little Further Down the Road
I last posted here on February 24th, 2021 (For My Older Brother) two years after your death. Now here we are in 2023 almost two more years down the road. I want to give an update on things.
I still miss you. That will never change. Life is not easier in fact it is harder in a lot of ways. I’m going through a painful breakup with L, the girl I started dating right before you took your own life. That is a whole bucket of grief in and of itself. On top of that I was let go from my job and found out that dad likely won’t make it through the next couple of months cause of the cancer.
I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t had thoughts of ending things myself, but I know that that is not what I really want. I just want to not be in pain anymore. I oscillate between periods of hope and despair. I feel helplessly lonely and isolated at times. Besides my therapist and my family, there is no one I feel really close to. I have some friends sure but no one like the friend that you were.
On the brighter side of things I am really starting to take care of myself in ways that I haven’t for years. I started CrossFit some months back. I am taking cold showers, eating healthy(ish), getting outside when I can and journaling like a fiend. I’m planning on taking an improv class later this month, something that scares the shit out of me while simultaneously bringing me so much joy. I’ll also be moving in to a new spot at the end of this month with a dog that B found on the side of the road. (She’s a sweetheart and I know you two would’ve gotten along.)That is something to look forward to.
I hope that you are proud of me. I am trying so hard to get back into the swing of life after having felt frozen in grief over the years. It feels like the ice is just beginning to melt. I miss you, I miss you, I miss you. I know that you would want me to be happy. The struggle is me wanting me to be happy. To find movement in life when it’s so much easier to pull the shutters and stay in my room. One day at a time. Brighter days ahead.
All My Love,
S
My Irish Twin
My brother was born in May of 1972 when I was 10 months and 3 weeks old. He turned 50 in this past May and out of his 50 years, he suffered with depression for 28 of them. He contemplated suicide 5 times in the last 2 years. He spoke to me each and every time. He had seen therapists and doctors and anyone —and that helped each time. Until yesterday morning when I got “the text”. He was already gone by the time the message came through. I’m numb, I’m confused, I’m nauseous and sobbing and frantic and then I’m a pile on the floor. I feel like he was my real twin and not just my Irish Twin. I feel like part of me left with him.
I’m struggling to process every aspect of this. Where do I start? It’s all so raw.
My Brother Keeper
It’s been exactly 4 days since you decided to take your own life… I’m laying down thinking how pointless life feels. Everyone is telling me be strong, Pray, keep your head up. I know they want the best for me but I feel like they are being dismissive. My brother was 27 years young. He had a baby on the way and 2 beautiful children.. I’ll never understand why or what made him do this. I can’t help but think I could have did more said more been around more. There’s nothing I tell myself that makes me feel better.. I have mixed emotions everyday some days I think I’m normal. Other days I feel like my world has came to an end. I pray for strength and guidance it’s been a very difficult time for me. My heart hurts my head is not in the right place . I pray I get the help I need to get me through this.
Right now I feel very worthless weak and no point in carrying on this life’s I want to be with him in the other life 🙁