Suicide: A new beginning for those left behind

I have made it no secret that I have lost both my brothers and I am not ashamed to say I lost my oldest brother to suicide when I was not yet 12 years old.  David Lee Cole was my Big Brother, he was my Guardian, he was the one who would have hated most of my boyfriends and would most likely have tried to convince me I could do better.  This is how I think of him when he nudges my mind, which is almost daily.  This summer will mark the 20th anniversary of his death and even I struggle to fathom how much I still miss him.

I have so many things to give perspective, it's amazing that I knew David for less than 12 years.  I've shared my life with my very first horse for over 14 years now, I've had a horse longer than I had an oldest brother.  That same horse just turned 31 and has lived 14 years longer than David lived.  Doug had just turned 3 the summer David ended his life, which really blows my mind!  When Doug was just beginning to really learn about all the wonders of the world, I was learning just how cruel and painful a place the world could be.

These are some of the things I remember about my brother, which of course are filtered through memories over 20 years old, seen from the eyes of a girl between the ages of birth to 12 years old.  David looked out for me, this I feel more than I remember.  A feeling that even though he resented a tag-along little sister as most older brothers do, he also felt  compelled to protect me.  My cousin Di, who helped solidify my love of horses, remembers visits where she witnessed this first hand.  She once told me of one visit that they had decided to play 'house' and pretend they were going on a road trip in the car.  David made sure to include me as their 'baby' in this game, and she remembered that because it seemed unusual for a brother to not have to be coerced into including their baby sister.  Once he came to me in a playground to offer me some of his candy after noticing I was alone and obviously insecure of my surroundings.

I still feel today that David was filled with potential, which perhaps I remember this from spending my life 'looking up' to him, yet I know that boy had passion.  He loved photography, architecture, surfing, skiing and anything to do with water.  Many times he tried to convince me to come surfing with him-not just going to the beach with him.  He wanted me to sit on his shoulders while he caught waves!  His eyes were full of sparks and life when he told me about how cool it would be, yet all I saw was me falling into the ocean and being pulled out to sea. 

Growing up we had a houseboat and a Ski Boat, every summer we'd spend weeks at a time camping at the lake.  It was a long drive, especially to a child, about 3 hours.  The folks would get up before the sun, pack up 3 kids and a dog into the '66 Chevelle, then head up to our little slice of heaven.  Being the youngest, and the only girl, I would start the journey still sleeping.  I would stretch out in the back seat, each brother a bookend 'pillow' for me until I was awake.  Both my brothers were athletic, strong skiers and I loved watching them crossing the wakes on a single ski.  They were always competing to see who could throw the biggest 'Rooster Tail'-the spray created from a deep turn.

I never knew the inner turmoil my brother suffered and may never know the full extent until we are reunited in spirit one day.  During a conversation with my mother once, I found out that David was 14 the first time he talked of suicide.  I was far too young to understand problems beyond my own biggest problem-that of convincing my parents to buy me a horse.  When David was 16 or 17 he went to the courts, asking to be emancipated-he wanted to be his own man.  Somehow, in high school, he missed class registrations and when he went to request the classes he wanted, they were full.  He knew he wanted to be an architect and he knew the classes he needed to take, but the school ignored his drive and desire, instead assigning him to classes he cared nothing for. 

I still become frustrated and angry at times, when I think of how differently his life could have turned out, what a difference one passionate teacher or administrator could have made if they'd paid attention.  As it was, he decided it was all a crock and if they wouldn't teach him what he wanted to learn he had no use for it and he dropped out.  I often wonder if all they saw was the long hair of a 'stoner/surfer hippie kid' who would never amount to anything, so why bother?  Eventually, David moved to Southern California where he struck out on his own.  In a letter to our parents, he spoke of progress, a job in a firm that had lead to learning drafting.  He was clearly proud of his ability to support himself and was excited over buying a new surfboard, which to a Surfer means everything!  There was nothing in the letter that would cause concern, it wasn't all easy for him, but he was reaching for his dreams and watching them slowly turn into reality.  Of this I've never asked, but I'm pretty sure my parents were proud of him at this point.

The last time I saw David he left with the standard "See ya' later!", which I remember being the first thought upon hearing of his death.  "You can't be gone, you told me you'd see me later!"  Earlier that day a policeman had come to the door looking for my parents, and so I knew something was terribly wrong.  My mom came to me in my room and sat on my bed next to me, explaining that David had taken his own life and that he was dead.  I don't remember too many details, just an overwhelming sense of injustice and a sorrow that burrowed deep in my bones; a sorrow so deep it's never left.

My life can clearly be split into 3 specific times: Before and After David, between David's departure and Ron's departure and after Ron's death due to complications from MS.

Loosing someone you expect will be there for you your whole life, especially before you've had a chance to comprehend, grasp and understand the finality of death-this is something that stays with you your whole life.  One of the first coherent thoughts I had, reflecting on his death was that I simply couldn't understand why.  Why would he choose death over life?  Why would he choose to leave us?  How could he kill himself when he had everything?  In my eyes, he was an adult, a 'big boy' who lived on his own with no parents setting rules to live by.  He could come and go as he pleased, eat whatever he wanted to for dinner and he could eat ice cream all day if he wanted-why would he throw that away?

Then, in time, I turned 17 myself.  "Oh S***!" 

Suddenly I realized being 17 is so far from being an adult, from being grown up.  At 17 I had so many emotions flooding my system, I felt so lost at times, confused and angry about things I didn't understand.  For the first time I felt I understood the 'whys' behind his suicide; I had gotten a taste of how hopeless you can feel, so hopeless it's easy to believe it would be easier to be dead than alive.  I felt closer to David, knowing I finally understood more and yet I missed him more than ever.  Had he been alive, I most certainly would have turned to him, asking him if it was this hard for him; deep in my soul I still thought of him as my Guardian.

In a way he excelled in guarding me from many things.  A fear of growing old is a fear I've never experienced.  The shining example he provided, how different our perception of being a certain age in comparison to actually being that age, has taught me to never believe I understand how anything feels that I haven't personally experienced.  When my first boyfriend tore my heart out with no more thought than peeling an orange and I wanted to die to escape the knowledge that no man would ever love me-I knew I could never give up.  Suicide crossed my mind more than I'd care to admit in those early years of discovering who I was and what I wanted/needed from a relationship with a man.  I refused to give up, to give in to suicide because I'd personally seen what it does to those you leave behind.  I never shut my heart to love, always entered into love with an open heart with trust and once I discovered the end of a bad relationship wasn't the end of life as I knew it, It got easier.  I knew someday I would find the right man, the man to show David what he'd missed out on by checking out early-True Love.

Wrapping your mind around the fact that someone you love has purposefully put an end to his or her life is not an easy thing to do!  Harder still when they are a close relative, someone who you automatically think you 'should have known something was wrong' with.  Even though I was not yet 12 at the time of his suicide, I carried around guilt for most of my life.  A guilt based on the idea that my love for him wasn't enough to keep him here; somehow I should have been able to save him.  Recently, upon reflecting on how his death has affected my life I had, what for me was, a wonderful thought.  As I was pondering the purpose we had in each others' lives and growth of spirit, I understood all the growth he has made possible in my spirit-but what could I possibly have provided in his?

Then a thought, a whisper really, tickled my intuition and I suddenly understood.  While time on Earth is linear, I have repeatedly read and heard that in Spirit it is not.  Time is more of an endless circle, a hoop with no beginning and no ending and a concept hard for our human brains to comprehend.  I had a small vision in my mind, of David watching the lives of those he had loved and who had loved him in return: those he left behind.  In one fraction of what we could recognize as time, he was able to experience our entire lives.  My contribution to his growth is an understanding of how deeply we affect those we love, even when we don't believe we make much difference.

It was then I was able to release my guilt, I realize I have done 'my part' to help his spirit realize how much we EACH have a purpose, how much we each matter.  To give up as he did was the ultimate act of selfishness and ironically enough those who commit suicide are able to follow through in part because of a belief they don't matter.  No one will care, no one will miss me anyway.  I'm confident he realized his error the moment his body died and his spirit was freed.  However, I also feel sure that upon witnessing his impact on all those affected by his death he realized how deeply we are all connected.

David's suicide is yet another piece of the puzzle that is my growing sense of personal Spirituality.  I knew and still know there are some people who honestly believed and still believe that his soul will spend eternity in hell as punishment for his actions.  Take it as you may, but for me personally, I simply refuse to submit to any doctrine that believes a soul enveloped in such pain in a human incarnation that they are compelled to end it, will spend eternity suffering even more.  The Goddess I know, and her Consort, are loving parents to us, their human children.  Where Love is needed, Love is given.  There are no 'conditions', no restrictive rules to follow and no nasty, eternal punishments for loosing your sight of the bigger picture.  There is only Love and Lessons; which lessons we learn and how we learn them are determined by our own actions.  No amount of Hail Mary's will free you from your responsibility and your resulting lessons that will most certainly come your way due to any actions you have put in motion based on hatred, ignorance or intolerance.

While being 'left behind' is never easy, it is a dramatic beginning to what can be a larger than life opportunity to grow in spirit while in human form.  To learn how to fully grieve without giving into depression and to learn how to honor a life regardless of the mental and emotional anguish they have laid at your feet.  The lessons of those left behind from suicide are like no other, and as with every experience in my life, I honor it.  I give credit where credit is due, David provided many lessons that have helped me find my path-the path that has lead me to being the woman I am today.

A psychic once told me they could sense David near me, a man who knew nothing of me or my life.  He actually was doing a reading for my boyfriend-whose own brother had committed suicide as well.  This man was talking to my boyfriend about his deceased brother when he turned to me and said oh-so-calmly "Kind of like your brother."  I was blown away as he continued explaining to me that David was always going to be near me, even if he chose to re-incarnate.  This is sometimes a hard concept for us to understand and it is part of the 'un-explainable', things that are not of this world can simply not be explained in words.  As I had always suspected, David was, is still and will always be my Guardian.

Peace be with you David.  I love you and will miss you until once again your smile warms my heart.