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| My mother and I were the only two persons who knew him and stood by him till the end, once our own terrified hearts mellowed down. In my heart he remained the brother I knew before the darkness in his mind took over I held on to my belief that the problem was not his chemical dependency but the very huge hole in his heart. A series of major losses including the sudden death of his infant firstborn son in a bus on their way home from the province, his separation from his wife, his difficulty in finishing his studies, my entering the convent and finally the news that his wife was already living with another man took a heavy toll on his struggling desire to survive life. The horrendous howling within him was too much for him to bear. He went to see a shrink and had to take anti-depressants but it was too late. It was time to take off the heavy armor as the warrior chose to quit and walked away filled with deep sorrow for the battles he knew he could not win. On July 25, 1995, the tired old man of 28, closed the window beside his bed, stood on a stool, took a nylon cord and hung himself in our house. No letter, no goodbye, nothing. For many years I was in extreme anguish as to why he killed himself. I blamed so many people including myself. Then I began blaming him and God too. Memories still cut so deep, gnawing pains that could not be named. I hated myself for leaving him as I opted for a life of my own when I thought he was on his way to healing. I stayed with all these feelings, sometimes intensely conscious, but most of the time I was simply floating until I again remembered and drowned in my own pain, guilt and anger. The anger was the last to be acknowledged because of my old notion that it was not right to be angry with a dead brother and with God. He would have been 35 years old this 30th of March. I remember when I would visit him in the rehabilitation center. He looked happy and filled with hope. I was there every week. Forcing myself not to cry as I saw him going out of the building with his shaved head and exhausted look. But he gained weight and was smiling. I thought that was the beginning of a new life. Sadly, people failed to support him when he tried his best to start anew. They forgot to remove the old label they had put on him and continued to relate with him the way they used to. I do not adhere to suicide as an option but I now accept that my brother had to do it. This is actually the most hurting part, that my brother HAD to do it. Was it a choice on his part? I believe that Eugene was ill, that he was emotionally crippled to choose life. I now accept his death. I stand before him holding the nylon cord and I bow my head in utter acceptance and surrender, in honoring him as my brother. In honoring his life, the battles he fought all by himself and the endless tears he shed that he tried so hard to hide. I bow my head in gratitude to God for giving him to me as my brother. Eugene will always be a part of my life. No matter how dark, no matter how everything sounds so gloomy. His life was seemingly tragic in the eyes of men but I believe God does not bestow life for nothing. |
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| Memory Lane There is a place in every heart, They call it Memory Lane, Where thoughts of loved ones lost, Forever will remain. God made this special place, When he first created man, For he knew it would be needed, As part of our life's plan. He knew when loved ones left us, We'd need some time to heal, To come to terms with sorrow, And the loneliness we'd feel. So when you lose a loved one, And your life is filled with pain, The comfort of their presence, Will be found in Memory Lane. author: Marian Jones |
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| Music: Ave Maria |
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