The day he died

I had planned to write this on Wednesday and then again yesterday but honestly I didn't want to see it out in front of me again. I know if I don't write this it will nag at me until I finally do and since this is the appropriate time of year here goes.

My last semester in college was really difficult for me because it was leading up to the first anniversary of my brother's death. I was taking my final technical writing course and our final assignment was to create a "how-to" manual from start to finish. I was in a bit of a slump, barely able to force myself to go to class and the last thing I wanted to do was write a manual to teach anyone how to do anything. I've always kept journals but up to that point I hadn't written anything about my brothers death. So I decided I would write a manual on how to survive the death of a sibling. Death affects everyone in different ways and the death of someone so young is especially hard to understand. But when that person commits suicide that puts understanding and acceptance in a whole new category. My parents found a support group that they attended but I never felt like it was a good fit for me. I knew I needed to tell my story in my own way and my manual helped me to do that. After I completed my manual ( & turned it in for my grade) I destroyed it. I'm not sure why I did that. Again, this was the first year after he died and I did a lot of things I can't explain that summer. I want to write about the day he died, and share a bit of what that day did to me.

On June 13, 1996 I was taking my brother out for his 24th birthday. He was to meet me and a friend at a local comedy club. I don't remember why we were meeting but there was a reason. My brother was late so I called him and there was no answer. I called several times and he never answered and I was getting really pissed. I had talked to him earlier in the day and we had confirmed our plans. I was so mad when he didn't show but I left his ticket out front in case he came late and I went into the club. I sat through the whole set the entire time thinking about why he wasn't there. I started to get really worried and decided we better go check on him.

We left the comedy club and went to my parents house where he was staying. His truck wasn't in the driveway so I figured he wasn't home but decided to go in the house anyway. I went into the living room and his shoes were in laying by the couch. When I saw his shoes I knew something was wrong, he always wore those shoes. I went out to the garage and his truck was parked inside. I really started to freak out then because he never parked in the garage. I walked out to the barn and called his name. I looked in all the buildings but I couldn't find him. I ran back into the house and started calling my relatives to see if anyone knew where he was. It was really late at night and I was starting to really panic 'cause nobody had seen him. They all thought he was with me. My aunt convinced me to come and get her so she could help me look. In the meantime my uncles were coming over to help us look for him too. This may sound like we were overreacting but Lynn had attempted suicide before and so we were all really scared.

After picking up my aunt I drove back home and I remember turning dowm my road and seeing flashing red lights racing to my parents house. I remember hearing sirens from the police and ambulances. I felt relief. I thought that the police were coming to help us look for him. I actually thought the lights and sirens were a good sign. It didn't occur to me to wonder who had called them. I pulled into the driveway and I saw my 3 uncles walking toward me and I don't think I even said anything and one of them said "We found him." I said "Good where is he?" then one of them said "He's dead." I started screaming, crying and hitting whoever was holding me. I don't even remember who it was. They told me that they had found him hanging from a rafter in the barn. I had been in the barn, but I didn't see him . I don't know how that happened but I'm thankful I didn't find him. I'm not sure if I could have recovered from that.

I remember running into the house calling up my brothers ex-wife's house and told her mother to "tell your daughter thanks to her my brother is dead." Then I told my uncles they had to go and get my mom. She was at work and I didn't want her driving home by herself to the horrible scene of police cars and ambulances in her driveway. The police wouldn't let one of my uncles go because he had been the one to cut my brother down. They had to question him because it was considered a crime scene. I remember asking my aunt to go out and try CPR. Then I called my mom's best friend and asked her to come over so my mom would have someone to lean on. Then I called my dad. He was a truck driver and I had no idea for sure where he was. Luckily I found him on my first try . I had to tell my dad over the phone that his only son was dead and that he needed to turn around and come home.

I don't remember seeing my mom when she got home, I know that she went out to see his body. I did not. I know that she was glad I had called Janet and she knew that I called dad. I don't think she and I ever spoke that night. I do remember her telling me to get some sleep the next day. I also remember her telling me to go out and meet my dad when he got home. My uncle had picked up him and driven him home. I walked out to meet him as he climbed out of the truck and he collapsed. I only remember bits of the next few days. I remember calling the morge to see if his body had been transferred to the funeral home. I remember calling the minister to ask him to help plan the funeral. I remember going to the newspaper to place his obituary. My parents and I barely spoke during all of this. We were all to consumed with grief and I had the guilt that if I hadn't stayed for the comedy show that perhaps I could have stopped him.

The funeral was on fathers day. I remember sitting on my grandparent's porch waiting for the car to pick us up to take us to the service. We drove to this little country church that was packed full of our family. I remember my dad breaking down as we walked into the church. I remember thinking during the service that the minister didn't have any idea what he was talking about and wanting to yell at him to shut up. I didn't go up to the casket, I sat on the front pew all by myself while my parents went up there. They had forced me to view him at visitation and I wasn't about to do it again. I remember my uncles and cousins carrying the casket back out to the car and someone broke down. I remember the Garth Brooks song "The Dance" playing at the funeral. I remember my dad standing up to thank everyone for their support. That is the last thing I remember.

My family changed the day he died. My parents and I have never had a close relationship since. In fact I haven't been close to anyone in my family since. I can't explain why. We all changed so much and dealt with his death in very different ways. I'm just not the same without him and being with my family with him not there still doesn't feel right.

I will never fully understand why my brother did what he did. I do think he felt that he had no other options and that was the only way to end his pain. I am sure he had no idea of how much his death would alter my entire family. I'm sure that he didn't mean to kill bits of me too.