On October 20th, 2014, at 5:41pm, I found out my little brother had hung himself. I was on my way to work, 1500 miles away from my family. I remember screaming, immediately start crying and almost wreck my car turning around to go back to the house. It was the worst pain I had ever felt.
One of the things that hurt the most, wasn’t that he was actually gone, but that I was so far away from him and the rest of the family. I’m the oldest of all my siblings. I’m supposed to be the one there to protect them all. I felt as though I had failed at one of the most important jobs there is. Not just to him, but to my other siblings as well.
That feeling has yet to go away. I doubt it ever will. The only comfort there is, is knowing that while i was able to, I did what I could. Try to steer him in the right direction. Yes I was hard on him, but that’s what big brothers do. We’re hard on each other so that they’ll be strong enough to take care of themselves.
He was strong enough to take care of himself, thanks to me. But the mental illnesses he faced just got the best of him. He may not be here physically anymore, but my memories and pictures of him I will always keep close to me. He was my first best friend no matter how many times I felt like killing him, (part of being a big brother also lol).
His pain has now vanished, the torture has stopped. I hope that he is happy now and watching down on us all with a smile. Even though he is not here to live his life, I still am to live life for the both of us.