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.
One thought on “Emil, my dear brother”
I know what you mean by hell on earth. I lost my little brother. Sometimes I cannot grasp that this nightmare is real…real.
Being the older sibling is something that lives deep, deep down in at the root of you. Wanting to have been the hero that made it all better eats and eats away at you. Just know that I get it…how it is being the older one and having known how beautiful the life that is gone was. And know too, that your precious little brother is above in heaven. Jesus knows how cruel this world is and receives every child with love.
You have a big heart….this grief will make you deep and strong….someday you will see your little brothers smile again.