April 10, 2003, a day I will never forget. Maybe because it’s tattooed on my back. Or maybe it was the look of pure shock and disbelief on my dad’s face, or the way my mom appeared to violently cry with her entire body.
No, it’s because that’s the day my oldest brother committed suicide.
My brother was a sophomore at Cornell University studying English at the time of his death. While taking a break from school to attend intense therapy to deal with his depression, he felt his time on earth had run its course.
As a sixth grader who was not quite 13 years old, I didn’t know how to grasp the situation or how to truly wrap my mind around the whole thing. I just laid there all night petting our family dog Rosie, not shedding a single tear. How else was a sixth grader supposed to react to the sudden death of his oldest brother?
My family had so many questions that would never be answered. These are questions we still ask ourselves today, like could we have done more to prevent his death?
The pain of my brother’s death is still palpable among my family. His name can’t be mentioned without tears being shed, long moments of silence and deep thought.
Because of that, I know I would never do anything to harm myself. I don’t want my parents to lose two sons; I love them too much to do that.
A day doesn’t go by that I don’t think about and miss my brother. I have tried to live my life in a way that I think would have made him proud. I know he would want me to push the limits and question authority. Spend every dollar I make and live life by the seat of my pants.
It’s hard to grasp, but I have outlived my brother as he passed away prior to his 21st birthday. For that reason, I think I have so much fun because I’m doing the things he was unable to do.
I can’t help but think of the movies he has never seen, the books he never read and the concerts he never attended.
When I think back on my relationship with him though, I realize I was just getting to know him. I think we would have been best friends. But that’s just something I’ll never know.
I wrote this column not for pity, but to raise your awareness about how one person’s suicide can affect others for a lifetime.
Depression has a bad public perception in my opinion. People often think you’re just sad and need to cheer up, but it’s more than that.
So if you’re out there, reading this, struggling and thinking what’s the point anymore, just know people do love you and care about you. Think about how your friends and parents would react if you committed suicide.
You may not think so, but speaking from experience I can guarantee you that it will haunt them for the rest of their lives.
It’s literally a sadness you can’t control. Trust me when I say that if you could turn it off, you would. Life is a daily struggle, but I wake up every day with a smile on my face ready to kick some ass.
Otterbein has some great resources for those who need help. Suicide is preventable. Mental illness is real. I highly advise you to seek out help.
Or if you’re walking across campus and see me, please stop and tell me what’s going on. I’ll listen because I don’t want anyone else to feel the daily pain I do.
We need more productive political discussions
