Walking into the apartment after attending the most awesome concert, with some of reggae’s greatest artists like Beenie Man and Lady Saw, had me belting out their tunes and dancing away. What a day, hanging out with friends, eating Caribbean foods, and this amazing day was just the highlight of my summer vacation.
While taking off my clothes, the phone rang and I picked it up. Hello? The caller said “Is your father at home?” I stated that he was not. The caller then said “I have some sad news for you.” I braced myself for what was coming, having no idea whatsoever what it could be. The caller said “I am sorry but your brother Cyllan is dead.”
WHAT!!!!!!!!!! What do you mean he is dead? He is only 19 years old. The caller, who was also his sister by mother side, stated that he had drowned along with his fiancée. I dropped the phone in a daze and could not wrap my mind around the caller had said. How do I tell my father that his last son was dead? He was at work, should I call him or should I wait until he got home to give him the sad news? After I had composed myself a little but still in a state of shock, I called my cousin to tell him the news. He then volunteered to deliver the bad news to my father, which took a load off of my mind, for I had not the fortitude or the courage to utter those words.
Cyllan is DEAD? My baby brother is dead? I don’t understand what this means. I spoke to him just 2 weeks ago. He was so happy because he was getting married and he wanted me to come to the wedding. Of all my siblings, he was the most like me with his kind, giving spirit, and his jolly demeanour. What cruel joke is this? They must be mistaken and got their facts wrong. Cyllan could not be dead he was too young. He had his whole life ahead of him. He had plans and aspirations. He was looking forward to a future. He was always so happy and always had kind words for anyone who was blessed to be in his presence.
This is indeed some cruel joke and I was not laughing but rather I was crying my eyes out until they were swollen and red. I was lying on the floor as if someone had performed surgery and ripped a piece of my heart out of my chest without putting me under an anaesthetic. That night I cried myself to sleep after hours of crying. I cried till I didn’t think I could cry anymore. There were no more tears left in me only emptiness. I would never again hear my baby brother say to me “Oh sis u so crazy but I love you.” What madness had occurred in my world? My world was upside down and no one could tell me why.
My father on the other hand did what he normally did to handle his troubles and promptly took to the comfort of his bottle and there he resided to ease his pain. I on the other hand could not find comfort. I had no one or nothing to comfort me. I found myself questioning Father about why did he allow such; my brother to die while all those evil people just ran around the world happy and free. It was not fair!
As the days dragged on, the news arrived that my brother may have committed suicide and that the family had decided to cremate him. There were no words that could describe what I was feeling. I knew I was broken truly broken inside. My spirit was broken and I could not think straight, there were no feelings anymore. I had no way of working through this pain because I had not developed the coping skills for such a tragedy. I had stop eating regular meals, I was not sleeping, and I was not speaking. I was just staring into space while staying in bed all day.
My friends became concerned and called my then employer Professor Grier, who was a clinical counsellor. The phone rang and I answered and heard her strong, firm voice. “Julie, where are you?” “I am at home Professor Grier.” She said “I need you to come to the office; I need to speak to you.” I stated that I could not. Then she stated – “Young lady if you do not come to my office in the next half an hour I will have you placed on Prozac and you know what that drug is for.”
At that very moment, there was recognition, as I was a tutor for the office of disability services where she was the boss, and I was quite aware of what Prozac was used for. I mustered what little strength I could and got myself ready to visit my boss. I arrived at her office and she took one look at me and called the school psychologist. As I walked down to psychologist’s office, I prayed that I was not too far gone to be committed or something. The doctor had me sit down and I just begun to pour out my broken heart.
After a couple of these sessions, she showed me ways to cope with grief and sadness. She encouraged me to understand that I should not allow such experiences in life to envelope me into a level of despair. She had actually told me that I had been borderline depressed and that was caused by my brother’s untimely death and my inability to cope with my loss.
She asked me to find closure by doing something to honour him so I decided to get my first tattoo. He had always wanted one but would never get the opportunity to experience it so I did it for him. To this day, his initials are tattooed on my back because I know that he always had my back and he still does.
I chose to share this experience because we especially in the Caribbean are not always able or willing to see the persons who are sad or depressed around us. Often times, these people are part of our own families and we don’t see the pain they are going through because they are skilful at covering up their pain. They laugh and joke with us and meanwhile they are disappearing on the inside. We figure oh they are going through troubles but let us mind our business. We don’t pay attention to things like suicide because we don’t see it as part of our society’s norms and pass it as just an abnormal occurrence.
It is the general thinking that suicide is done by crazy people and those who are not crazy but having these thoughts would be willing to ask for help. But they will not always ask for help because sometimes they just don’t know how to. It is my belief that we were all put here on this beautiful earth to help our neighbours. Our neighbours are not just the people we live next to but those we come in contact with. So whenever you can, try your very best to touch someone’s life with a kind word or deed. You never know, that gesture may save that person from taking their own life because they realise that there is someone who actually cares.
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