In 1999, I was pregnant with my child. I was three months along and had not yet told my youngest brother. I was shocked when my stepmom showed up and asked me to sit down. I refused, and she went on to tell me my brother had taken his own life . . . with a .22 caliber pistol. The whole family was devastated. I spent the whole time caring for my parents and siblings as we managed guilt, anger and extreme sadness.
He really could have been someone special. But, he was 19 and got a gun that wasn’t his or locked up in a safe. The availability of the gun made it easier for him to take his life, instead of talking to us. We all carry the weight in our hearts, and holidays and family events will never be the same. Time doesn’t heal all wounds.