As a writer, I'm rarely at a loss for words. Most of the time I'm able to put my thoughts down on paper (or the computer) and organize them into something coherent, but for some reason when I write about my brother and his death, It's difficult to find the right words. I can't seem to organize thoughts, and everything feels messy and disorganized. Yet still, I try.
This past Monday (July 27th) should have been my brother Mckay's 49th birthday, but when Mckay was 27, he shot and killed himself.
The death of a loved one is always a difficult thing to deal with. Grief always accompanies death, but when it comes to suicide, guilt is almost always present as well. Guilt that we should have somehow known. Guilt that we should have somehow stopped it. We begin to think "if only" thoughts.
If only I had called him that night.
If only he knew I loved him.
If only I had gone over to his place and checked on him.
If only...if only...if only.
Guilt convinces us that we have the power to prevent what happened, but suicide has so many different factors - physical, emotional, and mental. It's not a simple matter of being sad or alone that leads to suicide.
Please understand that I'm not trying to discourage anyone from reaching out to someone in need. We all need that connection - now more than ever. But convincing ourselves that we are in control of something that is far beyond us creates immense guilt when it turns out we had no control whatsoever.
That guilt can eat at us and make it more difficult for us to properly grieve. Out of all my family, I lived closest to my brother - his apartment was just a few blocks away from mine. We were close, not just distance-wise, and after his suicide, my guilt was heavy.
I needed help and I would come to realize that life's answers and much-needed comforts can come in the most unusual, and unexpected ways.
For me, comfort and understanding came in the form of a sci/fi television show. I know that sounds strange, probably because it is. A fictional show about an alien and his time machine helped me cope with emotions that I had no idea how to deal with at the time.
(Talk about cosmic intervention.)
In 2010, the British sci/fi television show Doctor Who aired an episode called Vincent and the Doctor. In that episode, the Doctor and his companion Amy go back in time to help Vincent Van Gogh defeat a demon. Throughout the episode, Amy tries to bring happiness into Vincent's life with the goal in mind to prevent his suicide. She thinks "if only" she can cheer him up then history can be rewritten. The Doctor and Amy bring Vincent Van Gogh to the Musee D'Orsay in present times so he can see how loved and adored he would become. Vincent experiences sheer joy when the museum curator gushes about the importance of Van Gogh in the art world.
The Doctor and Amy return Vincent Van Gogh to his time and rush back to the present. Amy is convinced that he won't commit suicide; that their intervention will prevent it, and he would go on to paint more masterpieces. When they return to the museum and Amy finds out that he still killed himself, she is crushed.
"We didn't make any difference at all," she says.
The Doctor replies, "The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don't always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don't necessarily spoil the good things or make them unimportant. And we definitely added to his pile of good things."
That scene hit me hard. I thought about my brother. I thought about his demons. I thought about my guilt, my own pile of "if only" thoughts. My brother's piles of bad and good things.
I loved my brother. He knew I loved him.
It didn't make a difference.
Except it did. My brother knew he was loved - not just by me, but by his family and friends. We had amazing and fun adventures together. That didn't stop him from taking his own life, but I know that it added to his pile of good.
I still cope with a lot of emotions about the loss of my brother, but I let go of my "if only" thoughts. I let go of my guilt.
I focus on the things I can control - adding to the pile of good in people's lives.
It's okay to let go of the guilt.
Instead, let's add to each other's pile of good.
I love and miss you, Mckay.
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