I terribly miss my brother, Sam. It has been about two years since his suicide. He was the smarter of us, the better of us, and I always was in fierce competition with him as a child. We fought bitterly over whose favorite animal was the best. Mine was the Blue Whale and his was the Seismosaurus. He suffered bitterly with his demons, schizophrenia, was beyond what anyone should have to endure. Tormented all his life, roller coaster ride from hell between bouts of extreme medication to extreme bouts of insanity. In and out of mental facilities, without any competent parents to help him.
I was deployed to Iraq on my second tour and Sam sent me an email. He said he was going on a trip and left a note for the landlord to take care of Wilbur II, his beloved guinea pig. I felt this was odd behavior and assumed poor Sam was going through another bout of insanity, maybe off his meds. He moved from Ruidoso to Carlsbad where he had spent most of his life. He said that my sister and mother were driving him nuts. Poor thing. My mother will have nothing to do with me since childhood and my sister goes through random cycles where she is somewhat friendly and somewhat not. We have a complicated relationship, if you can call it a relationship.
Sam died. He had gone quite a while without his meds and I guess his illness was spiraling out of control again. He called my Dad who wasn't much help and told him to take his meds and come paint his garage. My brother took more of his meds than was prescribed perhaps in an effort to quickly quiet the voices and the tormenting thoughts. He had not slept in 3 days.
He painted my dad's garage but decided he wasn't well and had to go to the hospital. My dad told his wife, Stacy to take him. Stacy suffers from epilepsy and I am not sure how "with it" she is, although she seems pretty nice for the most part. They were driving by the flumes and my brother wanted out. She pulled over but before she could park the car, Sam was on top of the flumes laughing. It was windy and Stacy thought he might have just fallen. But Idk, he had tried suicide earlier that year so I don't know. He laughed and then fell head first. Stacy could not do anything but scream. Another car stopped to help. He was taken to the hospital where he soon died. And so ended my dear friend and brother's life.
I wish it had been me, instead. It is a selfish wish. I hate the world without Sam. What is the point? Our childhood was a living hell and with his mental disorder I think it must have been even worse for him. Nothing I do means anything as I have failed him. He always treated me well and always tried to take care of me. I was not there for him. I was playing in the sandbox on the other side of the world. I know what it is to hurt, and to be alone, and to feel utterly hopeless. I miss Sam dearly and I often hope that I will not have to wait very long to be with him, and I pray dearly that his demons have not followed him into the next world, whatever and wherever that is. He remains in eternal free-fall in my heart and has yet to hit the ground. I cannot let him go.
