My Aunt called and told me that my brother, Michael had called her and said he was going to kill himself.  I had no idea until my Aunt told me, that he had made this threat 2 other times before. Now this was the third.

My Aunt asked me if I thought he would do it. I said yes! I know he will!  She asked me to try and call him and get online to try and talk to him. I called, but he didn't answer. I got online but when he saw me online, he got off right away.We both were on AOL at that time. I had that "gut" feeling again!

I was so upset, that I called my best friend, the one I've known since I was 5 years old. My brother used to call her "stinky". Not because she stunk, it was just his way of picking on her because he liked her.  If my brother picked on someone, that meant he liked them.

I told her that my Aunt had called and said that Michael was threatening to kill himself. I was crying and told her that I know he will do it.  I just knew he was going to go through with it.  She tried to assure me that he wouldn't do that, but I kept telling her that he would.

My brother had pushed me out of his life. He pushed his friends out of his life. He didn't want me to know where he lived or his phone number. But I do thank the Lord that I got to talk to him quite a bit via email and on the phone the last year of his life.

I was so worried for the rest of the day. I was so stressed. I don't understand though, why didn't my Aunt give me his address. Just maybe I could have stopped him.

When you lose someone from suicide, there will always be those "What ifs, Could ofs, I should have and more." There is always a feeling of guilt. There are so many unanswered questions, even when you kind of know why.

The phone rang about 1:00 AM on January 1, 1998,  New Years Day. I answered the phone, it was my Aunt. She said, "I just got a call from the coroners office". I screamed so loud that I woke up my husband and my daughter. I gave the phone to my husband and I went in the living room and just broke down and cried.

My only sibling, my only brother, was gone.  He was only 41 years old. I found out where he lived after he died. What little he had left, went to me. My husband and I buried him.  His car was parked in the garage. For 2 years I thought he was in his car. But one night while I was thinking about him, I asked my husband, "If he was in the car, how did his clothes get wet?" My husband said, "you dont' know do you?" I said, "no."  He then told me that my brother had laid down by the exhaust pipe while his car was running in the garage. It had gotten so hot that the sprinkler system came on and the alarms.

Once again, my heart had been shattered to pieces!

I've lost my mother, my grandmother, my real father, my adoptive step father, an Uncle, my Aunt,  a dear friend, more friends, more people than I could have ever imagined in my life.  They were either sick or died in their sleep and one was killed in a single car accident. I felt horrible pain for all those loses, but when I lost my only brother from suicide, this kind of pain was something that I never had before. It was so much different! I don't know how to explain it, but it very different.

When I lost my husband from suicide, the pain was different than when  my brother committed suicide. I was the one that found my husband. I think the pain is different and more unbearable when your the one who finds your loved one and knowing that there is nothing you can do, when they commit suicide. 

I was in total shock when I found my husband.  The worse thing about it, is that I was on the phone with our daughter when I found him.  She later told me that when she heard me scream, she knew something happened, because the only other time she's ever heard me scream like that was when my brother committed suicide.

One thing that I've always hated, is I get these "gut" feelings about things and they end up happening.  The last time that my husband and I made love, as we lay in each others arms, I knew it would be the last time we would ever make love again.  I even told him that a few days later. It was the last time we had made love. I don't know how I knew, but I did.

I believe suicide runs in families. My husbands mother committed suicide. My husband committed suicide.  When I was about 18 years old, I tried to commit suicide myself. I took a full bottle of pills, but I got really scared and had to call someone to come get me.  But I will never again try to kill myself!

When someone takes their own life, because of how much pain they are in, the ones left behind are hurt the worse. Their pain continues on and on. But the individual who took their own life, their pain has stopped.