h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I have two brothers; one is my twin and the other is six years older. I was 30 when my mother died (you can do the maths, I'm sure).

My twin cried at the bedside, cried later on, and cried at the funeral.

My eldest brother took refuge in practicalities. He contacted relatives immediately after the death, helped organise the funeral. At the funeral he and I shared bad taste jokes (cremation and the hearse ashtrays...etc)

Me? I humiliated the nurse at the bedside, then joked with her. I consoled my father and had a reconciliation with my grandfather. I shared the aforementioned sick jokes (Yes, they were funny). I got morosely drunk. I cried in private, with my wife.

My point is this. Three brothers, with the same upbringing, education and opportunities, all dealt with their mother's death in different ways. My twin REALLY did not like the sick jokes, but understood that this was how my elder brother and I dealt with the grief. (My father would have been mortified, but we were careful not to joke in front of him)

How a person deals with the death of a loved one is intensely personal. It brings home one's own mortality, and so brings to bear many, if not all, of one's moral and spiritual beliefs. That is why reactions can be so different.

If I've learned anything, it is not to judge a person's reaction to death, or to any kind of serious stress. Most often, I simply don't know enough about them to make an informed judgement.

A couple of weeks ago I posted my journal entry about this very same thing... dealing with death. My father passed away 7 years ago. He had a massive heart attack in which he did not survive, obviously. I have two younger siblings - one sister, one brother. The sister, tormented, turned to alcohol and pain killers for comfort. The brother, who was already an addict to cocaine, dove into deep depression and 8 months later killed himself. I went to school. I had just re-entered university after the birth of my son. When I divorced, I knew I needed to have a better job than that of a cashier to support us. The day of my father's death, I went to class. I am a graduate of art school, BA in fine art and minored in computer design (which is now my career). I put everything that I was feeling into my work. The work of those months is black and dark and depressing, but I didn't drink or do drugs or lose myself. I got it all out. Funny thing is that these feelings won't ever go away. They don't hurt as much as they did that first day, but they're still there nontheless. It's a part of us that we can't change, nor should we. It make us grow and allows us to feel more for others.. I think.

Wink

I have recently been to the funeral of a close friend who unfortunately decided to kill himself and I've been feeling like it will never go away. I seem to spend more time thinking about him and what he did than anything else.

I've had friends die before and it has never been easy but this one, because it was what he chose to do rather than an accident or illness, is by far the hardest to deal with.

I suppose I want answers but I need to realise that I am never going to get them. No one knows what he was thinking that day and no-one ever will. All I can do is hope that he is happy with the choice he made.

I do feel better for writing this and for reading other peoples accounts. It makes you realise that it is possible to move on, it just takes time.

Lee.

I understand exactly what you mean by answers. My brother's body was found by a neighbor. His wife was having an affair and my father had just suddenly passed away. There was a note, according to authorities, but we were never allowed to read it. It was addressed to his wife. My brother was only 22, just a young man, when he took his life. For 6 years now, I've struggled with my need for answers. I've given up. I try to hold onto (now) what I DO know and that is that he was such a beautiful life - before the strain and sadness, he was beautiful. That's comforting to me. I know that's how he is now.

It was hard to talk about it at first. Painting and writing helped me. Taking this first step in sharing your experience will help. My heart goes out to you.

~Wink

Thank you wink.

My friend was 22 also. He didn't leave a note unfortunately.

I can't believe they wouldn't let you read the note.

I really appreciate your perspective on this. Its been hard to talk to anyone face to face about. Mostly because I end up crying which I don't like people seeing. It feels ok here.

When my father died 11 years ago I didn't want to let anyone see me grieve in public either. However, I have come to the conclusion that it's best if you do.

Firstly, you have to understand that bereavement is supposed to hurt. If the person who died meant anything to you at all, it'll hurt worse than anything else.

Secondly, you also have to understand that people are scared of bereavement - as much as they are scared of dying - because it's something they don't know how to deal with. No one does the first time around. You can help by showing them that you're in pain; maybe they can help. Maybe they can't help but just knowing that they'd like to might help you.

Everyone grieves in their own way. But letting people know you hurt and that you need time/space/attention/whatever makes the whole process a little less painful and a little less lonely.