My best friend died. We weren’t friends at the time. We lived different lives and socialized with different people. I remember the day you were brought home. So small and pink in our mother’s arms. You gave me a purpose. I needed to protect you. We grew up side by side. We were both rejected by our father as the “less important” children. We lived with Lola for most of our lives. Walking with you in the park down the street from Lola’s house is still one of my fondest memories. You were my shadow. We were together for so long. Trauma hit us both and our parents did damage. I thought we both recovered, but I didn’t see the signs you still suffered. You pushed away and I was so angry, I let it happen. I gave you so many doors, so many ways out, I fought for your happiness and I felt your pain. I helped raise you. I saw a future in you that I wanted for you. So desperate to see what I had planned, I tried to push you in certain directions. I want to see you smile, your crooked smug face. I want to hear you laugh with my wife on Thanksgiving again. I want you to bring a box of chocolates and always eat most of it. I miss you. I didn’t get a note when you took your life. I am both thankful and sad. I wonder what you would have said to me? Would it be nice? Or would it be unfair? I can’t ask you. You won’t be here to see my wedding. You won’t be here to see our brother graduate high school. You aren’t here because of one final decision. All the things I should have said and didn’t just feel like sand drying out my lips. I see the box that our mother has you in and I feel the painful reminder of how I will never see you again. I will never hear you mix the Majong tiles at our mother’s table. I will never hear you laugh at a story. These are things I will forever miss. Someday, when I am given the privilege to raise children of my own they will see pictures of you, but never get to meet you. Never know how wonderful you are and how much joy you could bring. You were such a better person than me, little brother. I looked at you and say hope, love, and joy. I want to be so mad and can’t be. Now my shadow is gone and I have to continue to live in the bright sun. I have to smile and do my job. It all seems mundane and pointless. My other brothers decided to live. I have a beautiful fiance that I marry in 240 days. I teach children. I’m the hope they will bring goodness and justice to our country. I remind myself of these things when sadness wraps me in it’s arms like a blanket. Our father suddenly accepts me because he lost you. I would rather have a shit father than a dead brother. I miss you so much. I wasn’t always a great sister, but I wish with every fiber of my being that I could have saved you somehow. I wish there had been some way. I miss you, my little shadow. My best friend. My brother. Every breath I take is for you. I just wish you could have stayed. There was another way.

I was on my way home from work when my sister called me saying they found my brother in his room. He had hung himself. My little sister found him, she’s 12. My sister was yelling through the phone and I just kept yelling back WHAT HOSPITAL ARE THEY TAKING HIM TO I’LL MEET YOU GUYS THERE. I’m on my way. I was positive he was just unconscious. And all she said was Dayane they’re not taking him to a hospital, they’re not doing anything. I drove home so fast I almost crashed twice. The whole way I kept saying “Not my brother God, please not my brother”. When I got to the house there were 2 cop cars outside and when I got out of my car Susan was on the floor screaming “My brother God WHY WHY WHY MY BROTHER”. I fell to my knees. I’ve only seen that happen in movies but my legs gave up and I fell to my knees. My mom was screaming and screaming and in that second my world fell apart. Everything after that is blur, the whole street was there watching when they took my brother out in a body bag. My brother. I remember I could see the outline of his body when they were putting him in the coroner’s van. And just like, that he was gone. I would never see him alive again. I would never see him breathing, walking, smiling. The purest soul was taken from earth that day, maybe too pure for this piece of s*** world.

I lost my brother to suicide on May 25, 2017. People say time heals all pain but I detest this statement. He was the first boy and my father’s pride and joy. I would GIVE up ANYTHING to have him back – just to not see my parents in this pain and turmoil. Some dates just bring it all back like it just happened. I am from a society where mental illness has its stigma attached to it. I still remember my cousin’s husband words of how my brother brought shame on our family. I just don’t know how to “deal” with this loss.

The morning he committed suicide was the day my life would be completely messed up from then on. only thing i heard was banging. loud horrifying banging on the door, thought someone was trying to break in. when my mom and i got to the door, it was a friend of my brothers. he kept on saying, “it’s bad, it’s bad, you need to get out to the barn it’s BAD.” my mom told me to go get my brother because he was acting crazy, and when i got to his room, he wasn’t there. it was empty. when i got back mom had changed her clothes and was going outside. when she entered the barn all i heard was screams, and right then i knew that he had committed suicide and that he was gone, FOREVER.

My younger brother committed suicide 2 days ago. He was only 22 years old. He stepped off from the top of a cliff. I’ll forever be haunted by the day he didn’t come home and I had to call the police. I’ll never forget the police turning up at my door and taking their hats off to tell me that he has died. We found the note in his room. He suffered from depression for so many years, he never felt right and life was just too much for him. I love him so much, and everything I do in life from now on will be for him. I still think he’ll walk through the door some time soon. I can’t believe he did that and I can’t believe this is happening. I can only hope that he has found peace, that he wasn’t scared and that he’s in a better place. I can’t stop thinking about him standing at the top of that cliff, in the dark and cold, alone. I wish I could’ve been there to hold his hand and tell him it’s okay. It hurts so much to know that he was so sad, I hate that he was so sad, I would’ve done anything to take that sadness away from him. I miss you so much baby brother, I love you so much and I’ll carry you with me everywhere I go.

It has been 9 years since I lost my oldest brother, and 2 years since I lost my 2nd brother. I am the only one left…and I never reached out to get help until this month. I am really struggling with sleep, if I sleep 3 hours a night that is a good night. My anxiety is on another level. I cry everyday and I have no excuse for why I never reached out for help. I am not sure what I was thinking
I just started looking into support groups for help and advice on an appropriate grieving process because I am clearly struggling. Any helpful comments will be much appreciated!

It’s been nine year since my brother committed suicide. He was only 13 and he didn’t leave a note. Sometimes I still sit back and wonder why. I miss him everyday. I was only 7 when it happened. I can hardly remember it and yet it hurts so much. Its even worse because I always try to remember him and the things he liked to do and how he acted but I can’t. It’s like my brain is blocking him out. I don’t want it to though because I want to remember him. I NEED to remember him. I wish he hadn’t gone, I wish someone had seen the signs. I sometimes blame myself, why didn’t I notice how badly he was hurting. He was always so happy, at least I thought he was. Will it ever stop hurting? Will I ever stop missing him and wondering?

On July 12, 2014, my older and only brother shot himself in head. He was 25. 8AM Saturday morning. I had literally just fell asleep an hour before he did it. I was up thinking about our sister that passed and he was asleep on the couch. He woke up and went downstairs in the hallway and I slept on the couch. I woke up to my sister screaming “Timothy’s shot!” 8:15AM. He shot himself in the head downstairs. We never knew he owned a gun or was feeling so low to this point.
We’d lost our 18 year old sister April, my big sister and his little sister, a year prior, to gun violence. She was killed. He was there with her as she laid dying in his arms. He’s our only brother, so I know he felt like he was supposed to protect us and he couldn’t protect April. I am still angry that he did something so selfish, leaving behind kids and an already grieving family.
How didn’t we see the signs?? Today I laugh and smile at memories, tomorrow I cry, then the next day I’m mad again. But mostly I just try to spend as much time as possible with my family and we’re open about everything going on in our lives. We keep each other strong Depression isn’t a joke and people need to pay attention to signs in family members or friends.
Love you Timothy Love you April

My brother took his own life by hanging on January 23rd 2017. I remember that night more than any other night, the weather was absolutely aweful. He had recently split from his fiancé and she had not let him see his two young daughters in almost a week. We never knew that he had been suffering from depression and anxiety. He left us a video explaining this and how he couldn’t live without his fiancé. He felt that Suicide was the only option he had. He left behind 3 young children, as well as his two daughters he also has a son from a previous relationship. There’s just myself and my sister now trying to be strong for our mum. We all struggle everyday, some days I don’t even want to go outside the house. I cry a lot, mainly when I am on my own. I sit at my dinner table looking at the door, praying for him to walk in. I miss him so much, we were close growing up. I wish I had known how broken he was and been able to help him. It’s almost a year now since he’s been gone, it’s passed is by in a blur tbh. I feel that it’s not getting any better though, I feel it’s getting worse. I sometimes just lie in bed looking at the ceiling, overthinking it all. Punishing myself of things I could have done. He’s all I think of from the moment I wake until the moment I go to sleep. I dream of him most nights. I just can’t imagine spending the rest of my life living in this way. It breaks my heart to look in my mums eyes and see how broken she is. My brother was the oldest just 30 years old when he took his own life. I’m 30 now just recently turned and our sister is 19. I really need someone to talk to who has lost a brother/sister to Suicide. I’m in a six year relationship but my partner doesn’t really understand how I feel inside.

I just discovered this site, and as I read the many submissions that resonated with my experience, I succumbed to the pain that is there all of the time for my 30 year old, wonderful, caring brother.
He took his life in October. Used a rope and ended it all on a tree in my parents’ backyard. He was all alone, which I think is the most painful part of this entire story for me. My dad found him, and my mom said she swore she saw dried tears on his cheeks as he lay in the grass after they cut him down. As weird as it sounds, I almost wish I was with him, comforting him during this terrible and tragic glitch in time.
He had been struggling for quite some time with chronic headaches. Fast forward through the struggles of a couple drug-induced manic episodes, working with a poor mental health system, a couple suicide attempts, seeking help from COUNTLESS doctors for headaches or anything at all (failure on all counts, it seems), and here we are. We lost the battle.
I often think of his suicide like battling cancer. For nearly a year and a half, he talked of suicide and we worked SO hard to keep him alive, to keep him healthy. He knew he was loved. He wanted to get better. He had so much potential. It’s almost strange to me how unprepared I was to lose him, since he had basically been trying to warn us for so long. Nobody can comprehend the severity of this kind of tragedy until it is experienced.
The permanent absence of his laugh, of his smile, of my favorite arm to hold, is hurtful, painful, and just plain sad. I’m 25, and I know that with time, the grief of loss will change and wane, but it will always be a terrible void. It will always be hard.