On The Fourth Anniversary Of My Brother's Suicide
Today it's been four years since my brother committed suicide. Four years since his soul separated from the physical shell and went home. But sometimes I think I see him.He's been in a crowded restaurant, sitting two tables away from me eating his dinner. I've spotted him walking along Venice Beach skipping rocks into the ocean. I've stood in front of him in line at my local cafe and hovered as I heard him order a fancy coffee drink.
I always stare at him. He often stares back with a look on his face that seems to say, "Who is this weird woman staring at me?"
Once he approached me and asked, "Do I know you?"
Because of course, the person I am seeing is not really my brother. It's only someone who so closely resembles him that on a first glance I think it's him. And then my heart breaks when my brain finally connects the dots and I realize the man I'm staring at isn't my brother at all. He's just a stranger who thinks I'm insane for looking at him so intently.
Sometimes I cry when I realize it's not him, but more often I'm glad it's not. I believe in an afterlife, and in the progress of the soul, so whatever he's experiencing now has to be better than any restaurant or walk on the beach.
I hope he's happier these days... and finally at peace.
Comments
It's been more than 15 years now and though I don't see him in crowds anymore I do occasionally see him in a dream, and it's lovely to sit and talk with him there. Hope you get that too.
You and your brother will be in my thoughts today.
((hug))
I'm sure he's watching you - and missing you
I'm sorry.
Thank you for saying so. More and more I feel that he's at peace. To think otherwise is just awful.
FruFrugal,
I never could imagine either before my dad called me and told me what had happened. And I can't even begin to imagine how my parents feel.
Tafari,
Thank you. I needed that.
Diane,
Thanks for the hug and for the good wishes.
Jameil,
I cried a lot when I was writing this. So much so that I gave myself a headache, but it's better to get it out before I go to work, I suppose! I can imagine still being choked up 40 years later. It's less painful every year, but still such a sad thing.
Nick,
I think I see him at least once every month to six weeks. When he first passed, it was every fortnight.
Elise,
Isn't a strange thing when you catch yourself and realize it's not the person you're hoping it is? I haven't dreamed about my brother yet. Your dreams about your father must truly be special to you.
Claudia,
As time goes on, the why doesn't get any clearer. I have the reasons I think but none of us will ever really know why. Even his suicide note didn't help me understand.
April,
Thank you, April. It means a lot.
Jessica,
Thank you. I sobbed a whole lot today, too. I think about him every day but today and on his birthday especially.
Joyful Mom,
It really is a unique kind of pain. And I still don't understand it. I really don't.
Keep going Liz, you inspire me and so many people with your creative writing skills, your grasp of humanity, your piercing asute observational social commentary and your abilty to overcome the unovercomable.
One love
Thank you for your thoughtful words. I definitely believe the souls of those who've passed on watch over us.
Anon,
I so appreciate your thoughts and prayers. I am not always someone who lets the world into what I'm thinking or going through and I struggle with sharing the inner sadness and regret I feel over things like this. My brother made so many mistakes in this life, as do we all, but I can only forgive him now that he's passed on. The way you described your feelings about seeing your mother, and then realizing it's not her, I can relate to that a whole lot. I suppose knowing that death is a joyous thing in the end, because the next world is better than this, is what makes me feel hope for him.
Nancy,
Thank you so much for sharing your experience with your grandmother. So heartbreaking, but the memories you shared of her are so touching, so full of light. Love to you.
Nina,
Thank you so much. It is hard. Definitely is.
Kristen,
Thank you so much. {hugs}
Thank you for the hug. It's definitely bittersweet to be reminded, but I suppose that's how it should be. Sigh.