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.