It’s been less than a month, but feels like a lifetime. That song ‘it’s been a long day without you my friend, and I’ll tell you all about it when i see you again’. I have to think about the future, i have to face the future without you now. You turned 17 a month before you decided to die. You told mom about a month before the suicide that maybe you had depression. That you looked up ways of killing yourself painlessly…. I was 9000 miles away, when i found out i spoke to you on skype, told you to get therapy. Told mom to get you to see the doctor Asap! But you said you were fine. And everyone swept it under the carpet. Well, on monday, april eleventh, you went to school on as always. Half an hour later mom got the call – you never turned up. She called you. You said your lessons were to start later on that day, you were going to go downtown. Mom told you to come home and get the money for bus. You said in your normal, almost cheery voice ‘yes, okay, I’m going to go home now’ hung up, turned off your phone. You were about 15 miles away from home. 30 minutes later you put your neck down on to the railway line…. Mom was trying to call you when you were already dead. She texted me when she first couldn’t get hold of you. There was a 9hr difference, so it was evening and i was still at work. My heart sank. I could feel something. And when 1, 2, 3, 4 hours passed and there were no news still, i could sense it. And then she texted me – police is here. I knew it. Even before she said it. While she was still hoping he’d come back, i googled a newspaper article about a person who got hit by train and died. That was in our city. And i just knew.

I had a bad feeling all week before that. Like i was so sad but didn’t know why. I flew back as soon as i could. Mom tried to overdose on sleeping pills two days after i came home. She seems better now. I almost never cry. Doesn’t seem real. Read everything on suicide, survivors, and overcoming grief. I’m like a family psychiatrist now. The voice of reason. I’m 23 and was living alone in the country i dreamt of for 10 years. Had the best job ever. Now I’m back to square one, we’re moving to a different city, my parents are broken and “i’m strong, I’ll be happy again when i have kids” according to my mom. I don’t even care about myself as much. It just pains me to see her hurting like this, so i keep everything inside and then get these panic attacks. But they’re nothing. It’s nothing. Nothing matters. But i want to be happy, yet i feel selfish. And i’m mad at my brother. Then i feel guilty again and mad at myself because he was ill. And i will never admit it, but i am mad at my parents and i think they are guilty. For not taking his words seriously, for letting it all slip. But they already feel tremendous guilt, so i won’t ever say anything. My life is on pause, their life has ended. My brother is dead. I have these internal monologues constantly. Sometimes i try to forget. Sometimes i do forget. I was the only person at the crematorium. We couldn’t let mom go. So dad stayed with her. And i’m the big sister so i had to be there one last time. Who knew, that when i went away in January, it would be the last time i see him? I keep telling myself – it was depression. But it still hurts…