20 years ago today...my life was changed! I was thirteen years old, but I remember it like it was yesterday. It was Fall Break and I had been vacationing with my grandparents in Texas. I particularly remember having a great time with my grandparents that weekend but I also remember how happy I was and how good it felt to finally be home. I walked in the front door, about four o'clock in the afternoon, only to see my father sitting in his chair, with his church clothes still on and the television off. I knew right away that something was wrong.
My Dad and Step-Mom met me in the laundry room and my Dad instantly reached out and hugged me. I could tell that he was crying. My Step-Mom began rubbing my back as my Dad told me, "Brian is dead." I pulled away in disbelief. Not because of what he had just told me, but because only on a few occasions had I ever seen my Dad cry. I couldn't believe I was standing there, face-t0-face with my Dad, and he was crying. I immediately started asking questions, but I remember going about everything as if all was still "normal". Unpacking my bags, putting away dirty laundry, changing my clothes. The news that my twenty-0ne year old brother had committed suicide, only the day before, was not sinking in.
It didn't take long before I realized that life as I knew it would never be the same. My Dad began to emotionally shut down and no longer provided an avenue for me to share my feelings. I was not like him. I couldn't just sit there. I needed to talk about it. I needed to be around other people who wanted to talk about. Within an hour, my older sister was on her way to pick me up, and we headed to our Mother's house. Our childhood home...the same home Brian was raised in. The same home which held hundreds upon hundreds of photos of him, from birth to current. I needed to be there.
The next four days, prior to his burial, were a blur. It felt like there was a constant flood of visitors and well-wishers, even around the clock. My Mother was not doing well, so to a point, I really felt alone. Almost as if I was sitting back and watching everything happen around me. I was the youngest of five children so I was shrugged off quite a bit as my feelings or my opinions didn't really matter. Or at least that's how I felt. It was OK though...it felt like life was moving in slow-motion anyway...that somehow I would wake-up from this horrible dream.
There were so many things that stood out in my mind during those immediate days following my brother's death. I vividly remember going with my Dad to tell my Grandmother that Brian had passed away. She was elderly...and so cute! I remember how cute she was. I remember her asking us why we were there, bringing her a McDonalds sausage biscuit on a Monday morning, when normally we ate breakfast with her on Saturday's. It's so clear, in my head, and I see her like she's right in front of me now. She was sitting on her couch, with her napkin in her lap and she had just taken a bite when my father began to cry. As my Dad told her that her grandson had died, her tears began to fall. It was more than I could stand. It's never right to have to tell someone that a loved one, a special loved one, was gone. It broke my heart.
I also remember going with my brother's girlfriend to her house. She needed to pick up a few things and didn't want to go alone. She didn't want to go alone because it was at her house that my brother chose to end his life. It was dark outside and there was an eerie feeling surrounding her house. There were memories of Brian all over her house, her bedroom and even in her car. He felt close...but almost too close.
I'll never forget the day when immediate family was given the option of viewing Brian one last time. We entered the funeral home through the front door and never would I have expected the chapel doors to be standing wide open, with my brother at the front. So much for a warning! The first thing I saw was his red baseball cap sticking up out of the coffin. I knew it was him and instantly began to cry. Being the victim of a sawed-off shotgun blast to the head, we knew that what we would be viewing would be fabricated, as most of the top of his head was...gone. It didn't look like him...his face, that is. But I could see his long hair hanging down on his shoulders and his arms/chest still looked and felt the same. It was very difficult to see him like that, but I knew it would be last time that I would ever physically see him again...in this life. I had to do it...even though some people couldn't understand why. Because we share the same birthday, I left a picture with him. It was an older picture of us, when I was a very young child, and we were celebrating our special day together. Sharing our birthdays was one of the very few things that we had together...just he and I.
Looking back, twenty years later, sometimes I can't even believe this is my life. That I am a survivor of suicide. That my brother would fall into the 21% of men who would kill themselves in 1990. I was only thirteen years old when this most tragic event occured in my life and I do believe that I have carried this, and will carry this with me for the rest of my life. I think often of Brian. Sometimes my thoughts are filled with wonder and curiosity like, "Where would he be today?" At other times, I am filled with anger and hurt and sometimes I just miss him. I've been told that wavering between such extreme emotions is normal and will most likely always occur.
I do know that one thing remains the same. On this day, twenty years ago, my life was changed forever. I miss you Brian and I'll love you forever!
Brian Keith Roberts
3-23-69 * 10-20-90
