My Brother's Suicide: 7 Years On


God. I don't even know how to start but I feel like the memories and grief are just eating away at me. I don't know who else to talk to so I will just send this out to the EP void-- maybe it will help. I doubt it though.

Lets just be blunt: Today is the 7th anniversary of the day my brother ended his life by hanging himself. People suppose things like this get easier as time goes on, that the memories and pain fades but even as I sit here there are tears streaming down my cheeks. The memories of how I found him will never fade I know and they will haunt me for life.

It's odd the things you remember. Silly, inconsequential things. I grabbed a banana on my way out of my mate's appartment but never ate it. I stopped off on the way to buy a coke and a mars bar instead. Grand Designs was on the TV as I let myself in.

I walked through the house calling his name but there was no response. I thought it odd because he would usually be out the front door when he heard my car pull up. I carried on looking around downstairs before heading upstairs to his bedroom. From his room I could hear The Verve's 'Bittersweet Symphony' playing and thought this was why he hadn't responded. I opened the door and he was there.

And I did nothing.

Everyone told me afterwards that I couldn't have saved him, it had been too long, but I can't help wondering and that thought has tortured me ever since. I see him like that almost everyday as I go about my life. I see him hanging from trees in the park. I see his blue face with odd purple bruises. I see the erection he had. Like I's strange what you remember.

I left the house in a daze and must have got in the car and driven back to my appartment. It's about a 40 minute drive usually but I don't remember a second of it. Sitting outside my door was a book of poetry by Edward Arlington Robinson. Inside there was a picture of my brother and me with 'I love you. I'm so sorry' written on the back. It was marking one particular page. This poem was entitled 'Richard Cory'. I'd never heard it before but will now remember it for life:

"Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean-favoured and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good Morning!" and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich, yes, richer than a king,
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine -- we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked and waited for the light,
And went without the meat and cursed the bread,
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet in his head.

I had not realised how discontented he was with his life and this is yet another thing I blame myself for. I should have realised and helped him before it was too late. I just didn't know. My brother was very much like the man in this poem: popular, handsome, rich. I know he had made some sacrifices in his life to get where he was, but doesn't everyone? It makes me angry that he didn't explain why he did it to me. I wish he had given some sort of justification so I could make sense of it all in my head. All I got was a poem.

It's been seven years since that day. Seven years of anger and pain and hate and grief. Seven years of pointless counselling.

I still hurt.

I still can't forgive.
deadonarrival85 deadonarrival85
22-25, M
2 Responses Aug 1, 2010

We can't ever know or understand. Remember that he loved you. He told you so, in his note and I am sure in everyday life. We just don't always see it. <br />
<br />
I am so sorry you are suffering. We don't get "over" these things. We can get through them. I wish you peace tonight and every night. <br />
<br />

I would like to tell you that he's better now because he has escaped all the things that tortured him, but I don't know if it helps or makes it worse. I think the poem is an explanation. And I think it's better for you that he didn't discuss with you before that because now you would be full of guilt, because you would have known and you didn't manage to stop him. I hope you get to a point where you won't hurt but instead remember your brother with love. Have a good month.