Just found out I lost my brother Joe to suicide

I just found out I lost my brother Joe to suicide. I have not been close to my family for a long time. By choice. I have already done a whole lot of grieving. Thank God.
We loved each other. But we weren’t even remotely “close,” at all, either. That is my family.
We really had very, very few bonding moments. When we were little, he introduced me to the Beatles via records at our house, records at his friend’s and his friend’s brother’s records. I just remember a stretch–I was only like six or seven–and I got to tag along and just got immersed in the Beatles. I love him for that. Sounds sort of silly writing that–but it’s not. We also bonded over the Beastie Boys. Paul’s Boutique. Lol. I was freaking out over it when I got it and he ‘got’ it. No one was listening to PB at when it came out. Lol.
Joe was a trip, for sure. To his own drummer. The Lost Child. Very, very smart. But also lost in his head, too.
I remember the night my mom kicked my dad out of the house. I was like five or six. Joe and I listened to them yell at each other–Joe tried to reassure me things would be okay. He was like seven and I know he was as twisted over it as I was–and he had no clue if things were going to turn out okay (they didn’t).
Twenty-plus years ago, I raised our family issues with him, but he wasn’t open to talking about it. I let everyone know I was in recovery, clean and sober and all, and then I detached. I showed what boundaries and detaching looked like, whether family members hated me for it or not, or didn’t get it, or whatever.
We had some brief email connections in the last several years. Nothing major, but he knew I loved him and vise-versa.
I love you, Joe.
I hope you are in a better place, and I absolutely believe everything does work out in the universe in the end.

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