Dealing with my brothers suicide

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Long time lurker here. Never posted in a forum before, but I just need to type this out, as I would love to hear from someone with similar experiences, since I feel very alone in this. I'm a 28 year old man from Norway, currently living in Belgrade, Serbia.

I have two older sisters, and one older brother. They are all my half siblings, but that has never mattered to me and we were always close. My two sisters are however very different from me and my brother, but when they would conform easily, me and my brother were always the one sticking out and sticking together in my family. He was my mothers first born son, 15 years older than me.

When I was growing up he was always my hero. He was so cool in his black pick up truck, and he seemed to know everything about my hobbies, and he would sit with me for hours building lego. I remember he would feed my music obsession by visiting us all the time(he moved out early) and giving me suitcases full of memorabilia, mixtapes and all sorts of things. He didn't have autism, but still had traits like complete obsession about Michael Jackson(even going so far as changing his name to the name closest to it he could change it too legally, Michael Johnsen).

When me and my parents moved to the other side of the country he would come visit us whenever he could, and make puzzles to me and send them to me, make videotapes with his friends with sketches tailormade for me with all the music he got me into mixed in between. Then he got married to a lovely woman, had two beautiful sons and lived happy for a few years as a taxi driver. I would spend every summer vacation staying at their place, and he taught me cooking, we watched movies and played videogames, played with his sons and he would take me to my first concert, something I do whenever I can now. Michael Jackson, of course.

I got ill in my early teenage years, and also started getting bullied at the same time. My immune system was ruined, but whenever I had good periods I would go stay at his place. I got well when I was 16, I had found a new group of weird friends suitable for me and I was just happy to be alive(it looked grim for a long time). But just a few months later my world would come crashing down again. My brother got divorced during the late stages of my illness, and I didn't hear from him for a while. One night I was sitting on my computer and my parents came knocking at my door, saying that my brother was in a coma after a suicide attempt, and they didn't know if he would make it.

Coming to the hospital and seeing my best friend, brother and hero in a coma with tubes everywhere was far worse than anything I had experienced yet. He had overdosed on a cocktail of drugs with a friend 12 hours before, and according to the doctor he was found maximum five minutes before certain death. He made it, and woke up a couple of days later with a temporarily paralyzed arm.
He was also not the same man anymore at all. He went from being my big brother to my 15 years older little brother, very immature and with a complete lack of impulse control. Although he had some bad memories from childhood, it all started with the divorce, and after the severe overdose he seemed stuck in that moment for the rest of his life. No bad feelings to his ex wife of course, she's like a sister to me, and like a daughter for my parents, and has been the best mother in the world to his two sons.

The next years would be spent with him doing several more suicide attempts, I called the police, ambulance or my parents on several occasions to stop it, as I was the only one he would let in when he was down like that, everyone else was ignored.
I started an IT school, but had to quit that, as my parents talked him into staying with us, but as soon as I wasn't there to play games with him, talking about music(Pink Floyd had become the obsession by now), and generally doing the things we always did, he would go back home and an hour or a day later we would get a new call from the police or the hospital with a terrible message. Everyone else would get hysterical about his situation, but we were the same as always, even though he had changed so much, and that's why I would still be "allowed" to be there, without him freaking out.

He did stay in psychatric hospitals for long and short periods, but there were really no helping him. He always ended up in the same situation again sooner or later. The good thing about him acting like a teenager was that the signs of him about to go off the rails again were visible even to aspie me, so we were always able to stop it before it was too late every time. Some times he would end up in a coma after an overdose, sometimes he would cut himself to a bloody mess, and sometimes we were able to have him put in psychiatric care against his will before he got that far.

Now, 13 years after it all started it has calmed down for a few years. He lived on an early pension in a basement apartment. Still depressed, but everyone thought he coped, and he even started being there more for his sons. He was obviously in no shape to take care of them when it was on it's worst, but he would talk about them all the time, loved them very much and they loved him equally. He isolated himself the last few years, not liking visitors, and I wouldn't see him often, something I always found very sad. We would talk online all the time, and whenever there was a family gathering we couldn't avoid(I really struggles with all the people and small talk in those gatherings) we were always as good friends as always, and the ones that would look at each other rolling our eyes over everyone else, and escaping to go for a walk or have a cigarette together when all the family got too overwhelming. He was basically the only way I could function, and I was his. He would go if I would go, and the other way around. It was always sad saying goodbye to him, since I loved him so much and so wanted to see him as often as I used to, and I know he wanted the same, he just couldn't handle it anymore. Our last christmas together will always be one of the best memories of him, as he would play The fairytale of New York like he always did, tell embaressing stories about me like always, and we would be like we always were, almost only talking to eachother, and escaping outside all the time.

Fast forward to one month ago. I had talked with him online a couple of days before online, talking about the stuff we always did, and about me moving to Belgrade(I had just made that decision), about food, about my first girlfriend that I had just met, and the last part of our conversation was me linking a youtube link of Forever young, his favourite song in his teenage years. He seemed happier than in a long time.

I was staying at my girlfriends place here in Belgrade, celebrating our one month anniversary and on our way to bed, when I got a phonecall from my mother late at night, and the words "I have some very, very bad news. Your brother is dead." I went from being happy for the first time in over a decade to ruined. He had been found dead in his sleep, with none of the usual signs of a suicide attempt, like blood, empty bottles, trashed apartment, notes or some depressive song on repeat. He didn't show up to shop for my grandmother, which he usually did for some extra money once a week, and he didn't answer when my mother called, something he always did. The police knocked down his door, found him dead, and told my devastated mother that they thought he had died naturally in his sleep.

A couple of days later we learned that he was found with a pool of blood on him that he had thrown up, and empty pillcases next to him. He had transfered all his videotapes that he used to make to DVD's, a pile of food for his hamster, and it was clear that this was a suicide, but this time it was all planned and decided, and not on impulse. He had waited until my parents came back from their long stay in Spain, my sister had just had her baby, he had money in his account for the first time in a long time so his death wouldn't be a financial burden, and he had been spending a lot of time with his sons the last few weeks, and he was way happier than he used to be. Everyone thought it was because he was feeling better, but it's now clear he was happy because he saw the end finally coming.

I did what he said he always wanted people to do when he died, since he hated family gatherings and churches. I took my girlfriend and my best friend here and got a huge feast of food and drinks. He got the idea from Jim Morrisons Feast of friends. My best friend was working alone in the reception of a hostel that night, and of course he couldn't usually get drunk then, but he said "Come down, tonight we drink". We sat and listened to his favourite songs, ate, drank, and I would tell stories about him. I planned to do that again on his funeral day, and not go home for that, since in a weird staying away from a family gathering would be a tribute to how we were together, but I decided on going for my nephews. I wore my normal clothes, as me and him would always do when everyone else was getting dressed up.

I'm still broken up, and crying all the time everyone any small thing reminds me of him. The radio keeps playing songs that remind me of him, I went to my first concert since it happened, but all I could think about was the first concert I went to ever, right before I got ill and everything would change he finally took me to a Michael Jackson concert. A very fitting ending of the happy part of our lives. My girlfriend and my friends have been a huge help to me, but nothing will ever change this feeling of being alone now. Not lonely, but alone.

The funeral was terrible, of course. Seeing his coffin was like getting punched in the face with reality, and I had my entire family stressing me out, and I kept looking around for my brother that would be my comfort in those situations, only to realise he was gone, and that I'm completely alone in this feelings. I am of course not saying that I am the only one grieveing, but I am not completely alone when it comes to these feelings of being an outsider, and I was closer to him than anyone. Luckily my family respected that he was an atheist, and instead of a religious ceremony the "priest" would tell stories about his entire life, not hide the fact that it was a suicide at all, and more than half the ceremony was playing his favourite songs, one song that his two sons recorded for him, and finishing it off with Pink Floyds Goodbye Cruel World. "Goodbye all you people, there's nothing you can say to make me change my mind. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye."

I love you and miss you so much, Stig. I hope you are out there somewhere with Jim Morrison, Syd Barrett and Michael Jackson playing in the weirdest band ever.

I'm so sorry you lost your brother. He sounds like a very interesting and kind-hearted person. Your post is very touching. Thanks for sharing.
Amelia

Expat; I send my heartfelt condolence on your great loss.

I am stunned that a non-native English speaking person writes in this language with such fluidity and clarity.

I am taken by the love and insight you have for your brother. The two of you were clearly melded.



Whatever happened to your brother, it most likely started before the divorce. Mentally, spiritually and emotionally strong individuals do not go from healthy to suicidal because of divorce. They suffer loss and eventually recover. You sister-in-law sounds like a good person. Did she seek a divorce because she had found a new partner she preferred or did she divorce because of your brother's behavior?

I ask, not to be nosy and intrusive, but because understanding exactly what happened to your brother may be helpful in your own journey in life.