One year ago I posted the entry below.
Half my life ago today, 31 years ago to be exact, my younger brother died. He had set himself on fire and lived for 43 days.
Tomorrow he will be gone more than half my life. It is odd to ponder this milestone. Like all of you here, I did not think I could survive those early years. I had to will myself to take one breath and then the next. Everyone else’s lives were going forward, and I was lost in this unfamiliar and crushingly sad place.
For those new to this awful experience, I want to let you know what it is like to be half my life in this place. I have a full life. I can be happy. My brother’s suicide is still the worst thing that has ever happened to me. But over time this life is my familiar life. His suicide has been woven into the fabric of that life. I am not longer raw with emotion. I have learned to see what gifts have come from this. I can be a voice for others. I can share my experience, strength and hope. While his death was a catastrophic event, it colors who am today. I am in a healing profession and I know the good I do is colored by good times and bad.

Here are some of the things that helped me long the way: writing in a journal gave me a 24/7 outlet, therapy (both with other survivors and individually), learning about better physical health, eating better, waiting (when the awful moments happen, just wait; they will stop), leaning into the sadness instead of running from it. Find someone who can listen. Make a list of what is comforting to you. Keep it close by. Use it.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe, until you can breathe without thinking about it.

A therapist once asked me what I thought my brother wanted for me. Without thinking the answer came out, “Peace. He wants me to be at peace.”

I still believe that. Keep coming back here. We know. We understand. We care.

It’s been 10 days since I got the call I never thought I would get, even though now I think I should have known. My brother has not passed yet but according to the drs there is no hope and he is “gone” as they not so gently put it. He’s 31 and I’m not ready for him to leave this world. I have so much guilt and anger and sadness all at the same time. I can’t even cope. He’s dealt with depression and alcoholism for over 10 yrs, he’s talked about suicide before but I’ve always been able to get to him and calm him down. Right before Christmas he called me for help. He was feeling very low and reached out to me, after a long convo he finally agreed to get help and I brought him to the hospital. 5 hrs there they told me they would keep him for a minimum for 72 hrs. It was late and I had to bring my infant son home, so I left and told him I’d be back in the morning. They released him 15 min after I left. The time between then and now he was feeling better or so he said and I believed. He wanted to wait to get help till his insurance started on the 1st of this month. Looking back I wished I would have pushed harder for him to go sooner but I never saw this coming. I never thought he would really do this. He posted to Facebook not long before he hung himself in his room in our parents house – how he just wanted to sleep. I saw the post but figured he was just drunk and I was exhausted and honestly thought if I called him he would think I was calling just because of that. I wish I would have just called him. I can’t stop thinking about why I didn’t. I feel like this is all my fault no matter how many times I’m told it’s not. I should have been able to stop this.

I lost my brother back in October of 2018. My work’s response was essentially to not talk about it. I feel like I and my brother have been dealt an injustice simply because he died from suicide.
Earlier in the year another coworker lost her father from “natural causes” and we all signed a card for her. Half of the office doesn’t even know I lost my brother because his cause of death is taboo. I’m angry and hurt.
It’s been four months since he died and I feel like it’s too late to bring it back up again and have everyone sign a card.

On January 1st 2019 It was a year since my brother took his life I still think everyday abot that night we got the news my other brother found him it was a horrible sight and ever since he is in a very bad condition I suffer everyday nothing brings me joy anymore but I gotta pretend I can’t talk about this to nobody out of my family they all suffer I dont wanna be a burden the worst thing is he took his life because he felt lost after he had a motorcycle crash 12 years ago and since then never was the same he was disabled 70% couldn’t work had no girlfriend was depending on others I cant even tell the whole story it is just so hard I cry every night I cant believe it I still see him hear his voice I hate that time goes by and everyday that passes is one more day that I will never be around him anymore he had the biggest heart even in his pain always found words to encourage others if he saw they were down even writing this is so hard I dont expect anything of it I just need to share with others that have the same pain although nothing can relive it.

In two weeks, it will be six years since I lost my sister to suicide. We grew up in a situation that without going into too much detail, no one should have to grow up in. Due to that and perhaps a predisposition to mental illness, leading to addiction to opioids she struggled throughout her late teens and early twenties. I tried over and over again to help her, so many times I thought we were close, but ultimately she took her own life. Because of the way we grew up, we dont really have “family”. I have no idea what it would even feel like to have parents. There was zero love in our home, but me and Tee loved each other. We had each other’s backs. I lost her 6 years ago and I just miss her so much. For some reason, as we get closer to the 6 year anniversary it just seems so much harder. I’m feeling (even though I know I wouldn’t actually do it) idealization of suicide, like if I did I’d get to see her again. I just needed an outlet and found this site.

Subject: Older brother took his life

My older brother, Peter, just took his own life 2 days ago and it has been very tough for me and my family to process. He was the second out of four boys, (we are all in our 30’s) and his death has me asking so many questions.
Our family is close but a has a harder time discussing emotions and how we really feel. Peter dealt with issues with alcohol and depression and went through waves of good times and bad times. I was the brother living closest to him for the last 4 years, and I can’t help but feel like I could have done more, or tried to reach out more frequently than I did over the years.
He had been in rehab and seemed to be doing better, but recently I haven’t been seeing him as much and wasn’t communicating with him as much. He consistently ignored calls and texts from me and my family, and never wanted to really do much with his life. I wish I had done more to reach out, and feel guilty and selfish about how everything has ended.

Monday was my birthday. My first birthday since losing my brother. My big brother. I realized, in the next few years, I will become older than him. I will be older than my big brother. I can’t stop crying. I’ve spent so much time trying to put together the pieces and figure out why he took his life. I only just now realized how much I miss him.

I lost my brother April 1, 2016 to suicide. I write this not for the pain that I, and I am sure each of you, feel daily but for a friend of mine going through a much harder time then me. Back in 2008 she lost a brother to suicide, then in Oct. 2018 another one, and then she found out today that another brother took his life. They were a family with 5 kids..now it is just 2. I know somewhat of the pain she feels since I lost my brother, but I don’t know how to help her. Would love any thoughts or suggestions y’all have. Just to let you know we don’t live in the same state. Thanks!

My brother left this plain of existence a year ago and it wasn’t until i saw his name carved into a headstone nearly a year later that my mind went into chaos. I was never OK but i did the typical Irish male thing and buried all my feelings as deep as possible so i could help my parents deal with the loss. I know this all sounds like I’m making it all about myself. It is all about Patrick who spent most of his life not feeling like he fitted in or was liked or loved. He was and always will be. He ended his life but not before he posted his final words on face book. They were and still are difficult to read. Facebook refuses to shut the page down or even just remove the post. Anyway I’m rambling on, all I can say he is missed and wish I could have helped him. But as anyone who has dealt with suicide knows only too well, we all wish we could have helped our loved ones.

They say it gets better with time, but I’m not so sure that will be the case because as the days go by, the permanence of your loss becomes more real. I still can’t wrap by head around how I will never see or laugh or fight with you again. My natural skepticism hinders me from truly believing in the afterlife and hoping to meet again, and that pains me. I want to believe, I really do, but I need proof. And I believe that if you’re out there, you will deliver that proof to me personally and clearly because you know that’s what I need, and because I’m you’re little sister you will take care of me even in your death. Lolo’s dream, though, does give me some hope. But how can I be sure? I was always afraid of false hope and disappointment, one of the reasons, I believe, I tucked all my emotions away and gave off this indifferent and cold front. I do feel alone now, like I’ve lost a part of myself. Our childhood experiences are our history, and I don’t know what to do. I’m angry and jealous at all the people who haven’t lost their sister, at how everyone can just move on except for our parents and myself. I want to make you laugh again, and I wish that brief happiness could stay longer and I could fix it with my silliness. It’s not fair. I’m not angry with you, I just miss you and wish we could have suffered together. Because I hurt a lot too – and I didn’t tell you, but maybe if you knew I hurt too then you could have carried on. But they say it’s a disease and that it causes an inability to rationalize any other alternatives. I guess that’s true and alleviates some guilt, but I hate alleviating guilt because what if it really was my fault? I do believe that I’m the one person who could have saved you. Because at least back in 2013, I was the most important person to you. I’m sorry for where 2018 brought us and the distance we experienced. I was busy with my own life and not caring about your suffering. I could have helped though, I really could have, if only I could have grasped the severity more. I knew you were getting worse, I said so, but I was angry and avoided it, like I tend to.