It wasn’t until the unexpected passing of a beloved comedian that I found myself asking my older siblings, “How did you explain our uncle’s story to your kids?” My youngest son was aware that I once had a brother who passed away when I was young, but he didn’t know the tragic details surrounding his death.
This year, International Survivors of Suicide Loss Day falls on November 22. Now, at nearly three times the age I was when my brother died in 1987, and as the mother of two children aged four and eight who are growing closer as siblings, I’m reflecting on the lasting impact of this loss.
As I observe my nieces and nephews approaching the age I was—just shy of fourteen—when my brother left us, I can’t help but think about how his absence shaped my life and that of my siblings. My mother had four children in five years, and I arrived nearly nine years later, making my brother the middle child. As a kid, I longed to be older, always wanting to catch up with my siblings. Childhood felt like a race to the finish line, and when my siblings left for college, I often felt like an only child.
On that fateful day in February, when I learned about my brother’s passing, the loss of our family dynamic hit me harder than the loss of a brother I barely knew. As a self-absorbed teenager, my world revolved around my own struggles while he had already embarked on adulthood. My siblings lost a brother they had grown up with—while I felt my grief paled in comparison to theirs.
Watching my parents’ devastation was heart-wrenching. My mother repeatedly expressed her hope that I would never experience the pain of losing a child. As my son’s ninth birthday approaches, I realize how deeply I’ve internalized this fear—it’s almost as if I expect my children won’t outlive me. This anxiety is partly why I hesitated to have a third child; the thought of one of my children losing the other felt unbearable.
My mother once shared that she felt she had lost two children when I distanced myself during my teenage years. I promised her I wouldn’t follow my brother’s path, even though I understood depression intimately. I had felt its grip since kindergarten and witnessed my mother’s struggles. When friends asked about my brother’s choice, I couldn’t explain it, but I understood the allure of escape that he may have felt.
In the aftermath, I coped by distancing myself from family, seeking solace in substances like alcohol and marijuana. I now look back on those choices with a recognition of how they were my attempt to exert some control over my pain.
After years on antidepressants, health issues prompted me to revamp my lifestyle. Cutting out gluten and dairy lifted the heavy clouds of despair. Techniques like meditation and alternative medicine greatly improved my mental state. I’ve been off medication for almost a decade, navigating the delicate balance of mental health while managing a sensitive body. The stress stemming from childhood trauma and my past substance use contributed to my current health struggles.
Recently, I was saddened to learn about the suicide of a professor from my alma mater, and my heart ached for her children and husband. If the legacy of suicide weighs heavily on me, what must it be like for those who were closest to her? I can empathize with the inner turmoil that can lead someone to believe their loved ones would be better off without them.
Some of my friends might think I’m overprotective when it comes to my son—shielding him from sugars, additives, and late nights that I believe could trigger issues similar to what I faced. I admit I fear losing him to the same inner demons. I’ve been cautious about sharing my brother’s story with him, not wanting to plant any seeds of doubt about life’s value.
During a recent beach vacation, my husband informed me of a famous actor’s passing. My four-year-old innocently repeated the word “asphyxiation,” and I felt a wave of sadness wash over me. Not only was I mourning a childhood icon, but I was also grappling with how to explain my brother’s story to my son.
As we drove home, my children sang together in the back seat, and I felt an overwhelming mixture of gratitude for their bond and fear of what could happen if one were to lose the other. My siblings and I share the collective grief of losing a key player in our childhood, and I see the love between my children as both a blessing and a reminder of our shared loss.
While I strive to shield my children from fear, I know that living in that space can hinder the joy of imagining a brighter future for them.
If you or someone you know is experiencing suicidal thoughts, it’s essential to seek help. Resources can be found through the National Suicide Prevention Hotline, and for more information about coping with infertility, check out this excellent resource for pregnancy at WomensHealth.gov. For those interested in home insemination, visit Make A Mom for authoritative insights or explore Intracervical Insemination for guidance on your journey.
In summary, the impact of loss and mental health struggles permeates our lives, shaping how we navigate parenthood and relationships. Understanding and addressing these issues is vital to building a healthier future for ourselves and our children.