Death is never the answer
We buried my brother today. The pain of saying goodbye to someone just 28 years old - a son, a brother, a father, a husband - is for me far beyond that of someone who reached life's end by age and not by choice.
All he left behind was pain and questions. When we talk about him, in the dark moments, there's blame to go around. Most of it aimed at his choice to take his own life.
But that angers me more than all the circumstances around him. If you go that far that you take your own life, then the dark abyss you're in is far deeper than imaginable. In that moment you falsely think that life without you will be better than with.
No one can be blamed for depression. It's a hidden sickness, one that will distort your reality. Suicide is never the right choice - but someone that is depressed can not be blamed for making that decision. Yes, we know that in our reality there's always a better path - but it's not apparent in that moment.
All we can do is talk more about our health, talk about how we are really, instead of our superficial masks. We need to show all of those around us that we all struggle in different ways, and none of it is something to be ashamed of or hide away. Hiding our sickness - for whatever reason - is what kills. Because those around you that care can't see that you need help if you hide.
We love you, and we'd always help. We'd all rather have you around - no matter in what mental state - than just memories of you.
