My older brother took his own life on October of last year. He had been struggling for years and had had other attempts before so it was something I always knew deep down would come one day. Even just a couple days before, I spoke to my sister about how he was doing (they had a difficult relationship and sometimes would not speak to each other but he and I have always been extremely close) and I confessed that I believed that he might do it soon. I told her that either he’d make a big change in his life and do better or he’d finally do it and there wasn’t much we could do about it. Just a couple days after that, his ex girlfriend (they had broken up a week before but still lived together) called me at midnight and told me she found him.
The absence of my brother looms heavy within me. It’s a weight I carry every single day. He was my everything. Ever since I can remember, he was my favorite person. My sister and I would get into fights constantly but my brother and I were always close. He is the foundation of who I am today, he taught me about music, movies, art, life. I always felt a close connection to him. We understood each other all the darkness and all the love we shared was so special and unique. Sometimes it’s hard to be around my sister or mother because I know I remind them of him. I remind myself of him too, not just physically but also just the way we speak, the way we think. I miss him more than anything. Thanks to therapy, and the right meds I have been doing really well and feel very confident in myself and my future for the first time in my life but I can’t help but feel guilty sometimes. I wish he had gotten the help I have but I wouldn’t have gotten this if it wasn’t for what he did. It made my family wake up and unpack everything that was so deeply wrong. I wish that he didn’t have to do that for them to wake up. I wish I could share this version of myself with him. I just wish I could talk with him at least once more.

My brother intentionally overdosed on medication. He always carried unhappiness with him but took a turn for the worst following a minor brain aneurism. I wish I could have done more for him. He was almost 40 and his child just graduated from HS and is headed to college. I miss my brother.

There are no words to describe the emptiness left behind since you left this world. You were more than my brother—you were my best friend, my partner in laughter, and the one who made even the darkest days feel lighter with your humor and love.From the moment we were kids, you brought joy everywhere you went. Your jokes, your smile, and the way you could turn any ordinary moment into an adventure made life so much brighter. You had a way of making everyone around you feel seen and loved, even when you struggled to see that light in yourself.

Losing you on my birthday, September 4th, 2024, has left a wound that may never fully heal. It’s a cruel twist of fate that a day that once held celebration now carries the weight of unbearable sorrow. But I refuse to let the pain overshadow the incredible person you were. You were kind, you were brave, and you mattered—more than you ever knew.

I wish I could have taken away your struggles, could have shown you how deeply you were loved. But even in your absence, that love remains. It’s in the memories we built together, the inside jokes that still make me smile through tears, and the quiet moments when I feel you with me, as if you’re whispering one last punchline just to cheer me up.

You didn’t get the peace you deserved in life, but I hope you’ve found it now. Wherever you are, I hope you’re free, laughing, and watching over us—knowing you’ll never be forgotten.

Until we meet again, I’ll carry you in my heart every single day. I love you, my brother. Always.

I can’t describe my brother in words. I always tried and ended up saying you’ll just have to meet him. Kevin was my lifeline which makes me feel slightly guilty for depending on him so much. He was the only person who knew about my eating disorder. He was the one who would pick me up when I was too drunk to come home. He was the one to wipe my tears when I was dumped out of nowhere. We lived together all of our lives. The only time apart was during college. He came to me in his last moments asking for help. I tried to do the right thing, but he ended up taking his own life in the 30 seconds I left him alone. I love him more than words can describe, and I have no idea how to live the rest of my life without him. He was the one who wanted to fall in love. He was the one who wanted a full life. He was good. He was the guy who stood up for someone who no one wanted to stand up for. He was the protector of the ones who just couldn’t help themselves. I’m left alone without him and with the survivor’s guilt, where it should have been me. He was too good for this world. We talked constantly about taking on adulthood and how we would conquer it and take over the world metaphorically. He left me alone. He left me to find him. I kept him alive until he got to the hospital, but there’s not much you can do in this state that he was in. Not only do I have to get over what I saw, I have to figure out how I live the rest of my life without him. I gave up on romantic love, because he fulfilled my basic needs, obviously not sexually. I love him where the words can describe and this has absolutely wrecked my family. We love each other and we will get through this, but he was absolutely the bridge and the rock between my parents and myself. He taught me how to have a positive relationship with my mom and how to talk to her and communicate with her in a way that didn’t always result in us fighting.

6 months ago you were alive. In 9 days, 6 months ago you would decide to take your life. I will never understand why you did this without calling me. You called me for everything. I was your person and you were mine. You called me for the most minor of issues and all major health concerns, but you didn’t call me on that night. You were in pain, I knew that, but I don’t know it was this much – so unbearable the only way out was death. I am broken. I go through the motions of life but I’m a shell. I love you and miss you every day. I go to call you and it hit all over again. I’m so deeply sorry I wasn’t there and you didn’t call. I will never recover from this. I am broken. I hope you are no longer in pain, and you can rest, and mom is there with you. I love you so much.

Two years ago, on the 22nd June 2023, my older and only brother decided to take his own life.My life fell apart. I was completely trapped during the first year. I had to deal with a multitude of emotions, such as anger, guilt, feeling isolated, paralyzed, and even some that haven’t even been named yet. I couldn’t remember the good times with him.

I was able to enjoy my brother’s company when I was a kid and young adult, listening to music for hours together, traveling together, playing sports together, watching TV together, playing video games together, and learning together. He was my protector. I loved his sense of humor. I miss him so much. I hope you are well wherever you are, my beloved brother, it really hurts not to see you. I’m really sorry that I couldn’t help you.

The best way to honor you is to live my life, to do the things we both loved, to laugh at the same things we laughed at, that’s what you wanted for me and that’s what I will do.

There’s a huge stigma and taboo about people who decide to commit suicide. They have a very high level of suffering from life’s problems. No one has the right to judge them or the people around them. It’s important to explain to society that grief for suicide isn’t the same as a natural death or even an accident; nobody should never compare your grief to someone else’s.

It’s been just shy of 3 months without my baby sister. I made it through the week after, surrounded by my siblings who flew in to spend the week together in our childhood home. I made it through the funeral a month later, soaked tissues and all.
And suddenly, a bad dream a few nights ago has thrown me back into the thick of it. I’m stuck at work behind a desk and I’m falling apart again.

I miss you so much Alyssa. My baby. I was only a month older than you but you were my darling. My animal lover, my free spirit. You cared so deeply for every living thing, and I’ll never fault you for caring too much. Though it was your big heart and guilty conscience that made you feel like you couldn’t be here anymore.

I collected your things. I wear your shoes, your jewelry. Your trinkets line my shelves and hang on my walls. Your handwriting is inked into my skin. Its not enough.

Please lend me some strength. I know it will get better- it has to. But I’ve been so weak lately. I pray you visit me again in my dreams.

My brother, a deeply loved and respected neuropsychologist at UCLA, died by suicide at the age of 39. He had recently earned his doctorate and was at the beginning of what promised to be a brilliant and impactful career. His work was more than a profession—it was his calling. A passionate advocate for mental health, he dedicated his life to helping others heal and thrive. His sudden passing has left our family in profound grief and with many unanswered questions about the circumstances that led to this tragedy. He was not only a scholar and clinician but a compassionate force in the lives of his patients, colleagues, and loved ones.