I lost my brother when I was 14 years old, he never said bye to me he didn’t even try. I’m turning 21 in 28 days and I wish he knew who I was. I wish I could go to him for advice. I wish so many things and I just wish time stopped so I stayed the age he knew me as. I wish I could talk to him one last time.

My brother took his life a few days ago. He was 37 and left behind a baby girl and a family who loved him so much. But his demons were too big for him. And as sad as I am, I’m happy he’s at peace finally. I went to the site today because it still doesn’t feel real. It wasn’t his first attempt but he couldn’t cope anymore. I miss him so much.

Maddox, its been a few weeks since you’ve passed and it still hurts that you thought that suicide way the way out of this situation that you were in. Maybe i could’ve helped you more but i cant now and i regret it everyday because i was so mean to you and you were mean back but i didn’t take it to the heart like you did and I’m sorry i flipped out on ur mom. i saved everyone else from suicide except you and it hurts to think you’re the one person i could’ve saved. I’m going back to school tomorrow and I’m kinda scared because i know people will talk about you and how you passed. people will look at me and see weak for crying or having an anxiety attack or showing emotion because I’m a guy. but ill go through hell and back to talk to your ugly self one more time and i didn’t mean for it to end this way.  i want dad and heather to adopt someone because its boring without you. you and me had a hate – love relationship and i wish that we had a better relationship. i cant change anything that you did or i did in the past and i don’t think ill ever get over you. you made a dent in my life that can never change and I’m happy and sad about it. i always thought i would be the one to die first but that wasn’t the case. you didn’t deserve anything that happened to you even though you were annoying. i cant believe you died on October, 19 ,2020. everyone is hurting except you because you’re not here, you’re in a wall or something. you were the worst best little brother.

I lost my little brother on the 19th of May 2019 then my baby brother on the 11th of November 2020 I am lost torn and don’t know what to do.

3 years ago today was the beginning of your last 24 hours on earth. I thought that the world would stop spinning and the sun would stop shining without you, but it didn’t. And life goes on, no matter how painful. I try not to think about you too often because of the physical and emotional pain, but I also feel guilty if I don’t think about you often enough, as if my thoughts and dreams are keeping yours alive. I will always stand guard over your dreams, big brother. I love you more than anything in this world and once my life has run it’s course, when I have grown wrinkly and grey, I will see you again. I will tell you about all of the things you missed and I will hug you like I’ve never hugged before. Life is so difficult without you – you would have been wise, almost 25. I will be the same age as you soon and I will do my best to live my life in a way that would make you proud to be my brother. I love you, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t save you.

I’m not really sad anymore about what happened, but that is because of the circumstances that I’ve come to understand much better now, and because I’ve had the opportunity to gather and learn information and process exactly how things all went down.

My brother Michael committed suicide September 1st 2020 at 11:42:26 p.m. I often feel like I have to at least try to bring logic to illogical situations. I’ve got to dig in, figure out how things work, and break down a timeline to figure out how things all went down. I guess it’s the “Sailor”, and more specifically “Submarine Sailor”, in me than anything, that demands to know how things happened. Whenever even the slightest thing goes wrong, we get together and have what we call a “Critique”. It’s how we breakdown the events that lead up to mishaps.

For one thing, our family is and has been so far beyond dysfunctional since I can remember, that it’s no wonder that someone that never escaped that environment would resort to such an end. Although I wasn’t immune to it as a teenager, as an early adult I was afforded an opportunity to escape it by joining the Navy, and in my escape, came to the realization that this is not how normal healthy families operate. I’m so much f***ing better than all of that now.

My stepdad stepped out on my mother some 10 years after my joining the Navy, which unfortunately created a situation where my brother, who was 12 years younger than me, was pretty much given free rein in a house without any other dominant male to keep him going in the right direction, not to say that if Stepdad was there it would’ve really made much of a difference. Under my advisement, my mother informed my brother he was to no longer engage in certain activities so long as he was living in the house or she’d call the police, and if he were to continue this, he had to leave. He moved out and began renting a house.

Sometime later my parents became officially divorced and sold the house. Michael was renting was in a less than desirable part of the community and decided to buy a house in a quiet sub-division. He enlisted my parents to assist him in making the purchase by making a down payment, money which they had received from selling our childhood home following their divorce. Michael was never held accountable or made to experience the consequences of bad decisions he made – only when he was in relationships that were ending. He’d threaten suicide if the relationships were going to end, and early on, within the first couple times, it would work. Being lonely, depressed, angry, that wasn’t really enough for him to do it, I don’t think. I think his relationships played a part, but it wasn’t the ultimate factor. See, although I don’t discount that he did have emotional, depression, or other psychological issues, Michael was setup for failure and could not break his own cycle of making bad decisions.

On the night Michael killed himself, he and his girlfriend of 3 months had a dinner date, and had an argument. He drank too much that evening, and she informed him once they had arrived back at her home that if this was what a relationship with him would be like, she couldn’t do it. Not that they were breaking up, but that his behavior couldn’t continue if they were going to be a couple. He took this to mean they were breaking up. He informed her that he’d kill himself if they were to breakup. She told Michael she had to go to the bathroom and immediately called my mom and informed her that he was saying the things he was saying.

She recommended my mom and Stepdad go to Michael’s house, get his gun out of the house, and come pick him up. During that conversation, Michael secretly leaves her home, and arrives back at his house around 11:00pm. Michael had the Nest camera system set up in his home, which stores footage on a cloud and can be later viewed or live streamed on his phone. This is footage I later viewed after the police returned the phone to me. Following his arrival at his house, due to his movement through the house, the cameras begin recording. My parents arrive at his house shortly after he gets there, about 15 minutes or so, at around 11:17pm.

Discussions take place between Michael and our parents. Discussions about his behavior, how he can’t threaten suicide, and he has the gun in his hands during all of it. He kicked them out of his house around 11:25. Fearful he might actually hurt himself, they call the police. Less than 10 minutes later, around 11:35, the police arrive and are speaking with my parents outside the home, unbeknownst to Michael, as he’s been upstairs talking to his girlfriend who has said she’ll come over and talk to him. The phone line between them will remain open for the next 22 minutes.

At 11:41 he comes downstairs without the phone, gun in hand, disarms his alarm, unlocks his front door, lays the gun down on a table by the front door, and exits his house. On his living room camera, through one of his front windows, he can be seen looking around, as if to see if his girlfriend has arrived, and where my parents are.

He hasn’t stepped off the porch or out of the view of the living room camera that can see out the front window. He puts his hands back down, turns around, opens the front door, re-enters the house to the police shouting “don’t go back in the house!”, shuts the front door, locks it, picks up the shot gun, racks it, and disappears up the stairs. Once he reaches the top of the stairs his bedroom door can be heard opening, and slamming shut. About three seconds later at 11:42:26, the blast from the shotgun can be heard, followed by the sound of his body and the shotgun hitting the floor. His girlfriend texts my mom, I think he just fired his gun, he’s not saying anything. She won’t arrive at his house until 11:56.

At 11:44, the police can be heard on the cameras from their loudspeaker attempting to inform him that they just wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to hurt himself – they didn’t want to take him to jail. It was too late. He had already killed himself, senselessly. Michael’s girlfriend finally arrives and tells police she thinks he already did it, she heard the gunshot on the phone, but they discount her assessment saying that if there was a gunshot they would’ve heard it. Eventually they convince my parents to leave, come back in the morning, and disestablish the scene. My parents return at around 7:15am, and go in to find my brother lying on the floor.

Don’t tell me you’re sorry for me, you’re praying for me or my family, or any of that. Michael made his decision. It was his to make. There’s nothing for any of you to be sorry for or pray about. The end.

My beloved little brother, who was just 11 years old, hung himself in his room two months ago. I am his older brother who’s 19. These past two months have been literal hell on earth, the sorrow and grief are just so unimaginable but somehow yet so real and brutal. It all began last October when he began getting headache attacks, brutal ones that put him in the hospital. No one could figure out what it was until they realized that it was a mental issue; there was something in his mind that caused physical pains. He was such a loving soul, so fantastic and wholesome, and he always put the people around him first. He always bough be candy when he was in the store with my parents, and he put them on my desk together with a cute note. But since his attacks started his personality changed, and the rage attacks began instead, together with frequent passing outs and memory blackouts. This went on for several months and I was just so angry, so confused and so worried. Something was obviously seriously wrong, and I thought he was receiving the help he needed from professionals, I TRUSTED THEM, but as it turned out, he in fact received no real help at all, since therapy “isn’t for children”. I didn’t notice it, but he was deeply depressed for several months from spring to summer, oh how could I not see it? I moved out at the beginning of summer due to studies and was mostly removed from the progress for the last months. One week before his suicide I visited home, and he was happier than I had seen him in months, and he was finally sleeping in his own bed. I was so, so happy, and we all thought that he finally was getting better. One week later I receive a call that I need to get to the hospital as fast as possible, and that cops were coming to give me a ride. At that moment, some part of me realized what had happened, but my hope that he still lived was so strong all the way until I received the news from my crying mother. I can not believe he is gone. The thoughts of passing through life without him by my side make me want to disappear, oh they are so brutal to me. I want him back, please come back. Sometimes I dream of him, and it is so real. I tell him that he is so loved and that everything will be fine soon – I REALLY THOUGHT SO. I miss you so, so much, and I know that you are up there, watching down on me. You will always be in my heart, and I will never, ever forget about you, your kindness, or your beautiful smile. I love you.

3 years after you’ve left us but yet it still does not feel real. None of it does. I have dreams of you at night, where your back from the dead. My heart races as it feels so real. I have a sense of yearning and joy like I have never experienced in my life at the thought of having a second chance with you brother. A second chance to be there for you like you have always been for me, and I make a promise to never leave your side again. Then I wake up to this painfully excruciating reality that it was all a dream. That you are really gone. Out of my reach. I find myself bitter looking at my friends and their brothers, knowing that should have been you and me making those memories. I still have not found a way to cope with our loss. Yet in the exterior I have managed to keep up a great facade. I miss you more than you could’ve ever imagined.

This December will mark 3years. My little brother ended his life at 22yrs old. So young, so much potential, so many things he will miss. We grew up very close bc our mother was very strict and basically kept us together at all times. It was rare that we’d be separated for anything. This was until college and I barely seen my brother bc he was always working and I lived on campus. My brother was the funniest person I knew. I can’t help but to think he enjoyed making ppl laugh bc he knew what it was like to feel sad. He was a good person, we just grew up in unfortunate circumstance that I believe contributed to his mental health. He left a note but of course that didn’t ease anyone’s mind. Still so many questions and of course still grieving. My perception on life has drastically changed and I find myself doing good some days and other days completely falling apart. I hide it though because I don’t want people knowing I’m still hurt by it. But then it comes out in the way I treat my family and in my attitude. I just feel like something is missing in my life and nothing I’ve tried has been able to fill a portion of that void. I miss my brother’s presence. It’s hard you know? You can’t just lay in bed all day and cry. You have to get up and pretend like you’re getting stronger and that you’re not still so deeply hurt by it. It somewhat gives me comfort that I’m not alone in this. I hope and pray that we all find a way to bring peace to our minds and souls so that we can live our lives for the siblings we lost. I personally feel like I owe it to my brother to live my life to its’ fullest potential for the both of us. Peace & love