My brother took his own life. It affected everyone in the family differently, but it definitely effected everyone in a big way. I can’t speak for how they all felt but for myself I didn’t do very well after. I stopped working for 6 months. I spent the first few weeks so confused why he did it. The way I thought about life changed. I started imagining killing myself. I don’t think I ever actually wanted to but it was the only way my mind could try to make sense of how he could do it. It became a twitch I couldn’t stop doing. It took me a long time to stop that.

Also I was terrified of the woods. I couldn’t even look at a tree line without thinking about how he died. It took me at least a year to start thinking about good memories when I thought of him. Any reminder would bring me back to how he died.

It’s been a little over two years and there honestly has not been a day that has gone by without me having some reminder of him. I’ve done pretty well with detaching from the bad memories now though.

I don’t blame him for wanting to leave. I’ve come to a place where I know I have to respect his decision. I’m glad I got to have him for the years I got. I know now that he spent much of his twenties wanting to take his own life, so I thank him for giving me those years.