eugenefides28

A great part of my brother's short life allowed me to penetrate the abyss of sorrow a human heart can experience. It made me dwell in a land of darkness where I never dared imagine I could enter.

It's really a mystery why he was not graced with the same Light that I encountered and continue to encounter but I know this is just my own thinking. God deals with each of us differently. God's seeming absence in his life does not necessarily imply that he was not there.

Today I bow my head before my brother as almost 8 years ago he put the nylon cord around his neck and took hold of the beam.

I believe God had tears too as He waited for Eugene because He knew more than anybody else how he had suffered in this life. He cried with Eugene, he cried with me. He knew how he felt.

I believe God is a God who walks with us and never abandons us in all the deepest sorrows of our heart. He feels our pain acutely more than we can ever feel it. But in the beginning these thoughts never entered my heart and if they did, I did not believe a single word of it. I was not ready to listen then.

When I was able to finally give myself permission to feel my feelings deeply, I confronted God. I was so angry with Him for not taking care of my brother, but later I had to accept the truth that He really cannot take away the free will He has given each one of us.

This sort of coming to terms with my raw feelings, which took a long time, came as I learned to let go of my old notion that God would take it against me or punish me for being "irreverent."

Talking to God in the simplest way I could, with none of the usual trappings, led me to believe in faith that He is still with us despite of his seeming absence. It was then that a gradual settling down within me started.

I came face to face with the reality that there will be no answer, no matter how I search for it. I had to let go of my obsession to figure out where God was the day Eugene died and to let go of my own guilt for not having been
there for him when he needed me most.

I have forgiven myself for not having been able to shield my brother in the many bruises he had to go through in his short life. I have accepted that I could not be and will never be the "savior-sister" I wish I was for him. I cannot change or save people. I can only love them the most I can, in my own limited capacity.

The myth that "it could have been prevented if we had done more, been more attentive, and been there at the right time" tormented me immensely but the acceptance of the many paradoxes of life and the possibility of my brother having a bipolar syndrome are gradually setting me free.

Though this could also be an excuse. I don't know really.

The plain truth is that life is so complex and the many ambiguities of this life will always leave us with our unanswered questions. The need to understand, the need to have all the answers had to go gradually before the little piece of light allowed me to hope and firmly believe that there is still life after the death of a loved one through suicide.

It took my brother's killing himself to make us see more and more with a ove-filled vision, yet I also need to honor that we, his family, tried to reach out, and that we did the best we could in our own limited way. We each grappled with our own fears and confusions.

Yes, I now accept his death. I did not want my brother to die, but I accept that reality that he wanted and he needed to end his pain. I honor and accept where he was at that moment when he decided to do it. It was a very personal act on his part though not necessarily an act of his free will. Eugene was in an ocean of despair.

Music: Ave Maria