Someone Who Can Relate

Although my friends and community have been incredibly supportive, pretty much nobody really knows what I'm going through. Don't get me wrong, I never want anyone to be in a place to understand, but at the same time, it's hard that people can't say more than "Wow, I'm so sorry, I have no idea what you are going through."

I started going to a suicide support group. I don't think I knew how much I needed to talk to someone who could say "Wow, I've been there, I'm so sorry."

My first group, I met a woman who was attending her last. She lost a son to suicide 3 years ago. As she left, she offered some words of wisdom: One day--maybe near, maybe far from now--we'll learn to be happy again. It won't be the same happy as it was before, but it will return. And although the pain never fully goes away, life can be sweet again.

I hope to be her one day.

Stolen Moments

This past weekend, I attended the wedding of one of my best friends from college. The bride, who has also become a good friend, lost her mother a number of years ago.

During the wedding ceremony, the rabbi mentioned her mother, and how he knows she is looking down and celebrating with her daughter even though she isn't  physically there.

It didn't make me very upset at the time, but thinking about it later, it set me off on a crying jag.

There are so many future moments in life in which I had envisioned my brother as an integral part. But he won't walk down the aisle at my wedding. And although I know he'll be there with me in spirit, it's just one of a million moments that have been stolen from me.

Bad, Bad Dreams

I don't usually dream, or at least I seldom remember any dreams if I have them; even when I do remember, I'm not usually one for bad dreams, although I have the occasional nightmare.

Lately, I've been having a lot of really bad dreams, most of which involve losing someone I love in one way or another.

Ever since I lost my brother, I carry around an intense fear of losing someone else I love. I worry about it a lot, and I suppose that's carried over into my subconscious. I can't decide which is better--not being able to sleep, or having fitful and restless sleep full of nightmares.

Kind of damned if I do, and damned if I don't. I wish this was getting easier and not harder.

We Should Think Before We Speak

Since my brother's death, I have become significantly more attuned to the way I, and others, speak.

For example, have you ever thought about the number of times we reference death and suicide on any given day?

"Man, that test was a killer."
"Working with her makes me want to kill myself."
"Another assignment? Just kill me now..."
"This project is going to kill me."

I cringe a little every time someone uses a turn of phrase like the ones I listed above. I wonder why we use death and suicide to describe so many things. It's not that I haven't used them in the past, but I'm very careful about my choice of words these days.

How desensitized have we become to the power of our words that we can talk about death and suicide in such a nonchalant manner?

On Dreams

Since my brother's death three months ago, I've had a number of dreams in which he has made an appearance.

The first dream came a few weeks after the funeral. I don't remember much of it, but what I do remember is actually incredibly comforting. I said to him, "I don't have a brother anymore," to which he replied (in that wry, "you are being ridiculous" voice he used a lot, if you knew him), "Yeah, you do."

I don't know what I believe about dreams, or the inner workings of the brain. There are many religious traditions about those who have passed on appearing to their loved ones in dreams, but I think a lot of that might just be wishful thinking. "Wish-craft," my mom calls it.

Whether it was actually my brother's "spirit" or just my mind trying to come to terms with the enormity of my loss, I do take comfort in knowing that even though he may be physically gone, he will never actually be gone. He lives on in our stories, pictures, and memories. And regardless of why I dream about him, I hope it never stops.

The Forgotten Bereaved

It seems strange to me that there are very few resources for those who have lost a sibling to suicide. Support groups, even online resources are very much geared toward parents who have lost a child, or children who have lost a parent, but very little for siblings.

It makes me wonder--am I alone in this? Are there no other siblings who have lost a brother or sister to suicide? Do siblings not usually experience such pain and suffering?

Are there truly so few siblings who need suicide survivor support, or are have we just been forgotten?

It's Nobody's Fault

Eytan's death is nobody's fault.

I think we can't help but blame ourselves a little. What if I had called more? What if I had paid more attention? What if there was something I missed? So many what ifs...but to what end? Blaming myself for his death won't bring him back, and it won't make the loss hurt any less. Let's focus on moving forward and healing.

I found out yesterday that someone in my community jumped off the a bridge to his death a few weeks ago. The family isn't telling anyone what happened but everyone knows. It makes me even more resolute in my decision to tell people what happened; this kind of secret isn't something you can hide for long in this age of technology and police scanners. And even if it was "hideable," how can you heal if you can't openly talk about the loss? I'd rather have my friends know so they know how best they can support me.

SUICIDE ISN'T ANYONE'S FAULT. We loved my brother, and we didn't drive him to take his own life. He was sick, and in such a dark place that to him, death was the only way out. This doesn't reflect poorly on my family, and we are not ashamed of him.

Why is it so hard to talk about suicide?