Nine-Month Reality: Death Is Resolute

My Lovingly-Active Brother,

I'm running streets and strands with you in mind while running away from the pain of losing you. When I run, I am temporarily relieved of all the chronic heartache and pressure you felt- my mind clears and opens up to you in hopes that you're soaring with me and wrapped in my the peaks of my energy. Do you feel me? I focus all my thought into you and fantasize about the life we treasure together and the life you left behind. People say you had an amazing life; while this is true, your internal emotions were a daily struggle the last weeks of your life and should be respected. I too, smile and move about but it doesn't mean that I'm okay or in a better place. There's no sigh of relief exhaled from my bosom even though that's what everyone wants for me. I'm with you, bro. I absolutely understand your pain and accept why you're gone but utterly despise the anguish and trigger that cornered you into your darkest hours.

I suppose I'm coping now and I do so by running. This has become my life: Mia, You and running. Not very much socializing nor "having fun"...I'm just living with myself in mind and actively trying to reach you. Your passing has put my entire life and thoughts into perspective- everything is temporary and nothing but love and legacy truly last. THIS moment is all that matters. Not the material objects we purchase, not the jobs we maintain, not the funds in our pockets---none of that is of any significance. Because when we die, these things are picked up by others and pushed forward with the motions of life. Love, memories and honor move swiftly like the current of a strong tide; the low tide paws at our toes and soothingly caresses our flesh while high-tide and rough waves wobble our knees as we grasp the ocean air for balance.

Memories of you and I together are now flooding my mind and my heart. Most every other day I experience a trigger that sets me back for hours and places me back into day one. Day one was the most hopeless, helpless, devastating hours of my life. I can hear my screams still, as they antagonize my senses and remind me of reality. When I screamed, it wasn't a sound of fright, in fact, it was a fury of defeat and anger at the universe for allowing yourself to have felt defeated as well. I get so angry now knowing that in those last minutes, your entire life was gone. In your last weeks, you were quickly dying. I screamed because I couldn't change how death looks and feels and I still can't change that death took hold of you, Charley. I want to scream, still, in the same way I did nine months ago...exactly nine months ago on this hour and at this minute.

"Suicide is not the answer"- so posters, hot lines, resources shout. I say that for some, for some as you who felt(feel) desperate, lost, confused and besides themselves, death is the answer. There is no magic pill that dissolves anguish. There is no therapist messiah who may reach in, grab hold of, and pull pain from its roots. There is no voice on the other end of a hot line who may permanently talk you through your darkest hour and pull you back to life.

There is progress. There is struggle. There is patience. There is hope and there is faith. But to wait for all that only to experience that suicidal thoughts exist on the ocean bottom of your thoughts? I'm fortunate. I took anti-depressants immediately because I too, became suicidal at the idea of living without you and wanting nothing more than to be with you in heaven. And I have been in therapy for nine months. BUT I didn't have a chemical imbalance. I masked the deepest sorrows of losing you until I felt I could deal with it. And I am, finally. By running into your angelic arms and hoping to have the type of faith that you and I will embrace one another again and FEEL it.

I run for you. I run for hope. I run to escape. I run for our family. I run to live.
Your little big sister,
Yolie