Three Long Years

Dear Becca,
I love and miss you! Now that’s off my chest. Three years ago, just about 9pm on this day – which seems like a lifetime ago – you, my dear little sister decided you had enough. Jokes on you, life now is much worse for the entire planet although I am doing okay. People always ask me why or how could you have done this? I know you thought at that moment no person, thing or action would make life worth living. Sadly, it was all around you and you didn’t care in that one moment – you had a large family, group of friends and professional support network, each whom you embraced. Despite ups and downs, you were just coming into your own. We were so fortunate to share a sibling relationship together. It saddens me that you had just become old enough where we were becoming closer. You should have graduated high school. Suddenly, in an impulsive decision, you did the life-ending deed, and then I got a call from mom saying you did what you wanted to do. Since that moment in time I have not been the same person. I cannot fault you for taking your life. Life is a decision to the beholder, however, the pain I have to carry is something I can never unburden myself of, the “what if’s” “if I could turn back time” and other nostalgic triggers keep everyone in our family up at night. I would have cut off my right arm if it saved you. But, I digress, what happened, happened, and I am happy to reminisce over you.
Perhaps, suicide is intertwined with basic human genetics, just as mental illness. I tend to agree. Life is lovely and fair to some and sad and ugly to others. It’s unfair. That’s life. In yours, you were witty, artistic, talented, funny and unconditionally-loving to those closest to you. We have a lifetime of memories that I will cherish forever. Fast-forward, 3 years doesn’t make it easier. We’re in the middle of a Covid pandemic that brought me back to living and working at our parent’s home instead of my apartment. Everyday, I am reminded you are not here when I take care of mom and dad. Although they miss you terribly, I have to stay strong for them.
It is painful to say that I know you wouldn’t have survived until this day, December 9, 2020. This lockdown/quarantine would have either driven you to the edge or you could have gotten mom and dad infected with this wretched virus. Who knows!? While fate did intervene, you always got your way – even in the end. The way you went out is something I can never get over. I get flashbacks of that terrible night, the hospital and your condition. You have no idea what mom and dad go through with PTSD. Despite this, for you, I live with a sense of purpose even though I’ve had to put off law school plans.
Sibling love is forever. One thing that I won’t regret is that we ended every day with “Good night, love you” to each other when I lived at home. Shed many a tear knowing our last exchange was “Love you.” It was usually an exchanged pleasantry. Sometimes, one of us was insincere because we had gotten into a fight earlier in the night at the dinner table. Other times, it seemed robotic because it was too routine. If you weren’t in a good mood, you’d still smile when I’d barge into your room to say “Good night, Bex! Love you!” To which I would hear an enthusiastic “Love you too!” before you said “get out of my room!”
I will always miss you.
Love,
Big Bro

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