He was 23.
Today is Monday -my dad’s birthday. Yesterday was Sunday - the memorial service. He touched so many lives. There were hundreds of people, most I didn’t know. I was numb, not knowing what to say. I couldn’t socialize and hear the stories/memories. Went to the bar for one drink before heading home -the last place he was before he came home that night…Saturday night - I went with my sister to his apartment to grab his guitars and skateboard for the service. The place was a mess, dirty, toilet paper all over the floors from the kitten, rotting fruit in the kitchen. The chair in the hallway with a couple electrode patches that confirmed asystole. And across from the chair, the place where he hung himself outside his bedroom door, a half smoked cigarette on the floor. We had just came from our dad’s house. Spent the afternoon putting together memory boards, sifting through hundreds if pictures. Friday was a blur, don’t remember a single thing. Thursday was a blur. Made arrangements at the funeral home as a family that night.
And Wednesday night was the worst day of my life. My boyfreind called me at 730pm. I had been trying to nap before work but couldnt. Was making coffee in the kitchen. I answered, starting to ramble about having second thoughts about my root canal the next day when he cut me off with the most unexpected words. That my brother was dead. He hung himself and he was dead. And to call my sister. I was in shock for the first 10 mins or so. I didnt cry. I didnt understand. I texted work, got in my car and called my sister. Got to his apartment, sobbed with my dad in his truck. Not believing it. It seemed like hours, then they brought him down in the black bag and into the back of the van. He hadn’t replied to texts/calls the past few days, hadnt shown up to work. His car hadnt moved. My mom went over with her boyfriend and he was the one who found him, said he thought it was a halloween prop at first…
He had plans with friends Saturday after work, but got off too late. He went to the bar alone. Some friends were there. They helped close down the bar. Asked if anyone could hang out but they couldnt. They said he didn’t seem sad or upset. They didnt know. He walked his friend home then walked home himself. It must have been a mile or so walk altogether in the cold. He still had his jacket on when they found him.
I keep replaying what was going through his mind. What set him off. How drunk was he. Did he have anything else in his system. Did he see or talk to anyone on the walk home. Had he been thinking about this or planning. He had plans for the very next day. Maybe he shouldnt have been living alone, maybe he wasnt ready for that. There wasnt a note. He could have easily stood up. Maybe he didnt mean to do it. Maybe he just passed out too quick. I think it was just a shitty terrible momentary decision and he wasnt in the right state of mind obviously.
I wish i could talk to him. I miss him so much and wish i wouldve been closer and paid more attention to his life and been more present. He was such a special unique person. I dont understand.
There’s two things i dont want to talk about with my family.
-had a situation a few months ago, i drank a lot of whiskey one random day, dont even remember but reached out to my mom to come over because i didnt trust myself being alone. I held a grudge against her calling my dad to come over instead. I had her and my dad and my sisters number blocked after that. I didnt block my brother but i know the last thing i texted him was something i dont remember, i was drunk and it was something selfish and unkind. I had deleted it the day after. I get the ‘fuck it’ feeling when irrational/under the influence. I cant help thinking if it had been me people would say “shouldve seen that coming”. But not him. I just dont get it. Anger, numbness, regret, guilt…Im trying to be hopeful and strong for my family. I want to be more present and involved and less self-isolating.
-A week before all this happened, i was very coincidentally? googling religion/what happens after death/people’s cometojesus moments/opening your heart and all that…we were brought up catholic as kids. My parents arent really believers or anything…my brother wasnt either really. We both thought we could easily just be some aliens’ science experiment…Church was my grandmas influence. My brother would still take her to mass every sunday, he actually had plans that morning to take her…but i remember thinking at the service during the silent time for prayer…hey god, this wasnt the sign i was looking for, this isnt what i meant, fuck you.
I dont know. I think life is chaos and coincidence. I just feel weird about it right now. I guess i always will.