It was just another Tuesday evening during Covid isolation when my mother called me. I was by the kitchen table, eating with my youngest. She asked me if I was sitting down, and I knew – this is the call I had feared receiving for years. I pulled myself away to our bedroom to face the devastating news that you had finally done it. Alone, in your apartment, in your bedroom, where my mother had found you and made the emergency call just few minutes earlier. She was now waiting for the police. It was too late to help you anymore, you had left this world almost 15 hours ago, soon after you had written the final note by hand, in despair at 4.20. a.m.
After brief discussion with my wife, we decided to be truthful to our children and told them that you, their sole uncle, had taken your own life. I remember thinking, what if there has been a misunderstanding , what if the paramedics have arrived and they have been able to resuscitate you. Then I did not remember you had a living will to deny that. It was hard to think straight, it felt like a nightmare. Half an hour later I found myself driving through the darkness to my mother’s. Not crying, but in shock. Time for tears wouldn’t come until a couple of weeks later and then they wouldn’t stop.
You were my best friend, my little brother,
my only sibling. I remember your birth, and now, after 40 years it is again time to learn to live without you – and that is incredibly saddening. I have been preparing myself for this for the past years, while you struggled with your health and talked openly about your will to end your life. I kind of let myself to accept the fact that you are no longer living while you were still alive. I should have faught harder for you! Yet I know I tried my best. During past years we opened up to each other about our deepest fears and anxieties, but yet I wasn’t able to heal you – nobody was. I question myself whether I should have gotten you admitted to mental hospital against your will. I used to think that our mother shall do that if things come to that point, but neither of us had the guts try that. It is easy to regret that now, but I was afraid how you would have reacted.
We were similar in so many ways. We enjoyed the same kind of music, followed same sports, struggled with same kind of insecurities, and enjoyed staying up late to discuss philosophically about life. God I miss those conversations. Yet you were always the more artistics fellow, the one who wrote poems and dreamt of being a rock star. The one who felt more deeply, even too deeply, so it seemed. Living so much in your head, especially after you gave up working out, since you felt it was bad for you.
You used to be the lead man of your band, but you had given up that hobby a couple of years ago – like you had given up your job already earlier. An important job where you helped people to cope with their mental problems. Seemed to me that you were working yourself to give up everything and it scared me. You were no doubt good in your work helping others, like you were in everything that you chose to pursue. Just that you had no energy left to pursue much, not since your relationships had fallen apart, one after another. You once compared yourself to a bad battery, which just wouldn’t charge properly, no matter how much you rested.
I can’t say that I didn’t know the amount and depth of your suffering. I did. I had witnessed it my own eyes and it was a constant dark shadow in the back of my mind. I had seen you at your weakest. I had once convinced you that life is still worth living. You thanked me for that later when you felt better, but the problems didn’t go away.
You were reluctant to take anymore meds, saying your body can’t tolerate them any longer. After decades of medication, your brain had ”rebooted”. You were offered to start new form of electrical brain therapy by your doctor, but that scared you too much. Probably you feared it would drain you even more. You had asked our mother’s blessing on your decision to end your own life, which she of course denied. You wouldn’t accept any intervention either: “no intervention, unless I would be in psychosis one day”. Now I wonder that you might have been in psychosis – why else would anyone choose the darkness over life. But then again, your belief was that this is not everything. That soul will move on. I think that was a comforting thought for you, designed to keep your fear of death at bay, but which ironically made the death by suicide more appealing. You neither had will to live nor fear of death – and that was a fatal combination.
We were supposed to grow old together, you and me. Supporting one another. Now it is just me left and our elderly mother and father. Nobody to share the same childhood experiences anymore, and that makes me feel so alone. I feel guilt letting you down and at the same time anger for you leaving me. You once said it is not selfish to take one’s own life, but it is selfish to ask someone to live when the person has lost will to live. I wish I had challenged you on that, but maybe it wouldn’t have changed your decision.
I found poems you had written. Poems of a romantic man, longing for love and acceptance. Might it be that you suffered from a broken heart more than anything else? Your own view was that problems with lack of energy were primarily due to a physical illness. I had no option but support you on that fight, but now I think the origin of your tiredness might have been more of a spiritual nature. Your mind was not getting nurture and love it so badly needed. We are not built to live alone, without a partner.
I am still today dealing with guilt. I feel I should have done more. The guilt almost crushed me in the first weeks. The feeling is still there, but I now understand that it was your own choice(s) that took you from us and it was not my fault what you did. Your death was the end result of a process that took years.
I am grateful of having you as my little brother and you are always with me. So you were right – your soul lives on in all of us who loved you. Thank you also for leaving such kind suicide note, giving absolution to us who were left behind. But if you’d only been able to see how sorely you are missed, I wonder would you still have done it?
I Promise
Zachary R. B. September 4, 2017. My big brother. My best friend. The one person who understood me. I wrote a post a few years ago on this site titled ‘I Wish it Was Me’. I don’t think about him as much as I used to. The pain has subsided and introduces itself in small increments every once and a while. Not the same pain. Different than before. I was 18. We shared everything together…… and by everything I’m referring to all of our sadness. The depression. What we really felt and how we viewed the world. How we felt shackled to the earth, destined to live out our days in misery. One night he had called me crying at 4 am. I didn’t care if I would have gotten in trouble by my parents at the time for leaving at such an ungodly hour. I went. No questions asked. I sat on his back porch smoking cigarettes with him that night while he told me everything. How he sat with his knees to his chest and his back against his bedside table every night in tears. Contemplating. Fighting himself. He expressed to me how badly he wanted to do it. I cried. I told him I knew exactly how he felt. And in tears with my heart clenched, I asked him to promise me. Promise he would never pull the trigger. He promised. After fighting the promise and shaking his head and telling me he couldn’t. He finally promised. And in tears I promised him as well. It hurt me at the time to promise such a thing. The shackles grew heavier. But I did. About a month after this discussion he pulled the trigger. It’s hard to remember all of the feelings I felt. I think the mind has a way of masking and burying those emotions deep down inside of your brain. You may have glimpses of the memory if you really think hard enough but you can never feel the exact pain again. I used to sit in bed in the fetal position and cry. The pain was so bad that it felt like I was paralyzed. Like somebody had shot me with a double barreled gun and I couldn’t get up. It’s all a fog now. My life has gone on. I dropped out of college after failing out. I used to skip class to go sit in my car and smoke weed and look at nothing. It was a miserable time. My entire dream of what I wanted to do with my life seemed so obsolete at the time. I regret that now. I’ve worked multiple jobs. I’ve continued battling depression. I’ve been kicked out of my parents home to try and motivate me to do more with my life. I went through not one but two evictions. I’ve lived in a car. I’ve slept outside. I’ve used my last 5 dollars on a pack of cigarettes. Out of all the chaos I became who I am today. I met someone. We shared our souls with one another. Professed our love for one another after three days time. Gone through one of those evictions together. Smoked that pack of cigarettes together. I got pregnant. I found out I was pregnant while I was couch hopping with my partner. My entire world was thrown out of order once again. We both knew what we had to do. We loved each other too much to let go of our creation. But we couldn’t raise our child the way we were living. A life of depression and squalor was no place for a child. No matter how much the parents love each other. We both worked two jobs. He found a nice high paying job. I found a job that I didn’t have to stand too long on my swollen pregnant feet. We worked as hard as we could and saved as much as we could. We bought cars. We started renting a home. We bought furniture. We gathered all of the necessary things we needed to start this baby’s life off the way we wanted and the way it deserved. I took my prenatal everyday. I went on walks. I ate how I was supposed to. I drank water how I was supposed to. We gave it our all. I delivered our beautiful baby girl via c section as my partner held my hand. The first thing I thought of: I will protect this child with all of my being. The second thing I thought of: she’s perfect. The third thing I thought of: I wish my brother were here to be her uncle. I wish he could see how I’m doing. He would be so proud of me. She’s 7 months old now and absolutely thriving. She is the smartest, silliest, and most importantly; the happiest little girl I’ve ever seen. Every day is more perfect than the last. She gave me purpose. I think of him from time to time. How I wish he could have been a part of her life. How he would have made the most amazing uncle. How he always wanted to be a father and for our children to grow up together and be best friends. Would my life be the same if he hadn’t have pulled the trigger that night? Would I still have met my soul mate. Would we have learned how to thrive by each other’s sides. Would we have been given this beautiful miracle. I’m not sure. I am thankful for all of the things he taught me while living. I’m thankful I had him by my side when he was. I’m thankful for all of the things he taught me after he did what he did. And I’m thankful for his impact on my life. The good and the bad. His life meant something.
Farewell to my little brother….
James,
I am so deeply saddened by your sudden death on June 28th, 2021. I keep wishing I had come by to see you in the months prior. I got jammed up in my own life. I thought you were seeing you psychiatrist and taking your prescribed medications along with your heart medication.
Just know you were on my mind. And I knew mom and you had dinner together every night and played cards. She didn’t tell me how much despair you were in.
You were a good soul who just wanted your wife and sons to love you and get back together as a family.
I’m so happy we spent time together the last two years. It was such a blessing to have you back in my life. We had such long talks over a cup of tea in your kitchen. Our talks about life and nature and law were so intelligent and interesting.
I wanted more time with you but you couldn’t let go of them. They were toxic
people and no good for you. But I understand how you still loved them. She was your wife and they were your two sons. I get it.
I will miss you dearly… I will look for you in every sunset, in every ripple in the water at your favorite beach and in every breeze that brushes against my face as I shed my tears.
I will feel you around me, free at last and at peace. You had to end it your way and I will never judge you for that. I will always miss you and hold onto all my memories.
I loved you little brother and you will always stay apart of me, tucked in my heart. Until we meet again.
Your Big Sister, Lori xoxoxo
Today
I lost you today. I had to tell our parents. It doesn’t feel real yet, and maybe it never will. I don’t know how to exist in a world without my only sibling. My baby brother. Your nephew has been kicking up a storm in my belly today. I wish you could be here to hold him when he is born. I’ll tell him everything about you. I love you.
We miss you, Kev
1 month and 12 days ago, my little brother passed away. This still feels crazy to me, and doesn’t seem real. He had just turned 20 years old, and we all celebrated it together. He seemed ok. We all knew he had his struggles but he was getting better. The night he left us, he had a grocery list in hand. He had just applied to a job as a lifeguard. He was driving too fast on the road, and in a moment of perfect storm, he ended his own life as he felt there was no other option. He couldn’t face another DUI. He is my only brother. Im 21 years old and just moved in with my boyfriend and we are devastated. I miss him so intensely and so deeply, I never thought this kind of pain existed or that I’d be looking up others who have felt this pain. It does not make me feel better, to read others’ stories, however it does give me hope that I can survive this and other people have moved forward through this unbearable pain and are at least, to be frank, alive. Thank you for everyone who shared on this and I’m glad I’ve found this page. My mom has been wanting me to find support somehow but it’s so hard to talk about suicide to my friends. They just don’t understand. I’m so incredibly sad.
Birthday
Happy Birthday little brother. Love you and miss you. Sis.
My little Brother Josh is Gone
Hey you guys,
It’s three months and a few days, since my little Brother took his life. Died in his little room that all too often was his cave. Did it a day before my 32 Birthday (thank’s man, i never liked my birthdays, but that’s harsh …) and just 800 meters away from me. We always cared for each other, knew about the periods of depressions which plagued us – mine got shorter, his got longer over the years. I tried so hard to help him, when his girlfriend left him two years ago. They were 10 years together, since they were 18. She still loved him but couldn’t carry him through his depressions, she needed to live. Then he was kicked out of university without a diploma last year, after 16 semesters. And he was the brightest man i knew, he just wasn’t able to cope with the system. We had a rough time, when i tried to push him out of his phlegmatism (read Kafka’s Little Fable and add a whole ton of stubbornness, and you get my little brother). I tried to show him that i know how it feels, to be in your room, not being able to leave, to be overwhelmed by isolation, storming thoughts and headache. He just sometimes opened up emotionally and he always thought he could just use the sheer force of his brilliant rational mind to control himself, talk himself out of his sadness and fear. He meditated, microdosed on LSD, read countless books, but he never f***ing talked about his angst with me or one of the many other people who loved him. Then i had much to do, had to cope with other parts of the family – a lot of s*** on that front too. Had to study for my final exams. And i told him, the second to last time ever that we talked, that it’s his turn to call me or come by, that I need him too and cannot always run after him. I did not know how dark the place had gotten, where he went to more and more often. He never called me or came by…thought he could just vanish from the world.
Thought, so he wrote, he would die ‘lonely and poor’. He WAS lonely and poor, but he didn’t need to be. Just an arm’s length away, but a heart’s distance sometimes can’t be measured…
He was my brother, my best friend, my intellectual nemesis, my anchor.
I f***ing hate him
and I f***ing love him.
Struggling
I lost you 10 months ago and it still feels like yesterday. You were so kind and empathetic and sometimes I wondered if that was part of it, you felt too much of this world. I finally took a vacation to our favorite spot and I am sitting here thinking it feels wrong to be in “your place” without you. I want to spread your ashes but I haven’t been able to yet. I can’t understand, I replay the entire year and find myself immersed in guilt. You talked to me about taking your life and 7 months later you were gone. I was so scared of losing you and breaking your trust that I didn’t tell anyone. I wish I could go back, I will always wish I could go back. I am angry with the pandemic because I was so worried about getting you sick that I saw you rarely and your mental health declined out of sight. I am struggling to find my life after you but man I am really trying. Eric, my baby brother, I miss you so much and I love you forever. Love, you big sis
It’s been 9 days but I miss him so much already
On May 30, my 26 year old baby brother, Matt, committed suicide in my son’s bed by shooting himself in the head (no, my son wasn’t in there). I heard the shot and the sound will haunt me forever. He had paranoid schizophrenia, that caused him to think I was against him, and I was his “person.” I raised him since he was 5 and he was my best friend. He knew more about me than anyone in this world. He couldn’t handle the things his mind was trying to tell him, but he knew it shouldn’t be telling him that. I watched him fight a very painful war in his head, but he refused to go to the doctor. I tried for 3 years, but he said he didnt want to be “zombie-fied” on pills. I saw the pain his own mind caused him and I would never want him to live that way, but I also feel that if he didn’t want to have to live on pills “zombie-fied” (like our uncle who has been institutionalized for 15 years) that he shouldn’t have to live that way either. I don’t know how to feel. It gives me some small amount of peace to know he isn’t suffering anymore, but the pain is something I didn’t know existed. I will never get over this, and Im not sure how to find a new “normal”, because it will never be normal again. I just really hope that at the time, he knew I loved him more than life itself and I would have taken his pain for him if I could have. I hope when he died, he knew I loved him and not what his demons were telling him . Its comforting to know I’m not alone in this horrendous heartbreak and others know how I feel, because its hard to even put into words. My thoughts and prayers are with you all.
7 yr anniversary
Today May 31, 7 year anniversary, my brother is no longer here . Can’t believe it’s been this long. First few years were agonizing, questioning whether this really happened. I called the coroner who was sympathetic and explained to me somewhat though hard to understand. I felt like someone else was there who coerced my brother and thinking someone was getting away. My mom said I should go see a counselor, I never did. I still stay awake at nights, searching online for something? I don’t really know. At some point I came to realization that my brother did take his life and in a sense took mine too. Sometimes I question my purpose in life. I feel like I’m silently grieving with it no where to go. I think to myself, if my brother were here, we’d be a little family again. I miss my brother then, I miss my brother now, I’ll miss my brother forever.