Originally shared on Facebook, November 26, 2020.
November 26, 2019, is the day my brother killed himself. It’s a day forever connected to his death, a day that will typically fall before, after or on the Thanksgiving holiday, and will always be the day before my son’s birthday. Pandemic or not, this year was not going to be a typical holiday for Nathan’s people.
Nathan and I did not have a good relationship. I’m still one of his people. His death felt inevitable to me and yet brought forth the most complex emotions of my lifetime so far. Despite our personal distance — a distance I intentionally kept — it was clear that he was a person who was never truly at peace on this earth. He wouldn’t have tried so many times to leave it prematurely otherwise. His departure has now transferred a certain amount of unease to the rest of us. I hope it’s temporary. I fear it’s not.
I suppose I’m thankful that he is finally at peace, no longer tormented by mental illness and decades of addiction and self destruction. And that those closest to him no longer struggle daily with what they are supposed to be for him, how much they should try to understand, ignore, intervene, or enable. How much guilt or freedom they’re supposed to feel. I suppose I’m thankful the rest of us are no longer waiting for that particular shoe to drop. But is it better to carry the constant anticipation of eventual grief or to live with actual, definitive grief?
I’m thankful for the strength of my family throughout his life and for the space we’ve given each other after his death. I’m thankful for my remaining siblings. For my parents. For my own children. For the family I’ve married in to and otherwise chosen over the years. We’ve lost a lot. We have so much left. I do know that. Still, it’s hard to feel grateful for today, forever associated with a trauma that did not start or end with Nathan’s suicide. I need to learn from its lessons. Maybe some day I’ll be thankful for those lessons.
In the meantime, even though our relationship at all ages and every moment since his death has been a challenge, I’m sharing his story to help anyone who finds themselves on any side of this.
Are you the person struggling to keep yourself alive and connected? Reach out. Are you the family member trying desperately to break through? I get it. I wish you all peace.
And I’ll be so thankful if you find it.
If You or Someone You Know is in Crisis
Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (Lifeline) at 1–800–273-TALK (8255), or text the Crisis Text Line (text HELLO to 741741). Both services are free and available 24 hours a day, seven days a week. All calls are confidential.
