Finding My Way

On September 13, 2010, they found my brother dead in his apartment. That is the first time I have written that down on paper and, somehow, it seems so much more real in writing than when I communicate to people verbally.

As you can imagine, choas ensued. In fact, if you could possible fathom the type of chaos that would take place when your sibling commits suicide at the age of 27 - if you could imagine all the different things that MAY happen when that news starts to trickle through the cosmos - chances are it occured in the hours, days and weeks following my brother's death. The hardest part was, by far, working with my brother's widow who was, by all accounts, not cut out to handler the extremely untimely death of her husband.

I was faced with the very stark reality that while no one is prepared for the suicide of a loved one, least of all is a 29-year-old widow after two years of marriage.

Then the inevitable blame game started. I struggled with trying to observe and respect the feelings of my brother's life-long love while balancing the wishes of my parents and, to an even smaller degree, my own personal feelings about and through out the aftermath. It was a lose-lose situation where no one would walking away feeling good.

After two months of trying to respect everyone, his wife determined that it was in her own best interest (and I can't say that I disagree with her, per se) that she remove herself from the family and begin moving forward without any of us in the picture.

So, too, went the hopes that I have carried with me since I was 14 that we would all be one big happy family one day.

A few days after my brother died, I began seeing a therapist to help me work through the grief I was feeling. It was my intention to see him a few times, get what I needed, and be on my way. But as I attended my sessions with him (and he implored me to stick with the therapy), I began to realize a lot of things about myself that had not previously been paid attention to.

While I was working to manage everyone else's grief - no one was managing mine.

Now, let me be clear that I have an extremely supportive family. They love me immensely and are tremendously proud of my personal and professional accomplishments. It isn't to say that they weren't reaching out to me. They were. They asked how I was doing and encouraged me to talk about how I was working through the death of my brother (who was close to me in age and was very close to me growing up but to whom I had developed a significant distance from in more recent years).

More to the point is that the death of my brother, the role I assumed without flinching or being asked, and the mediation I tried to take part in without expectation from ANYONE was actually a mini-version of the rest of my life. I put everyone before myself without anyone asking and, ultimately, make msyelf the victim in the process. Even if I don't play victim or count myself as the victim, I am victimizing myself.

So, here we are.

My brother was a huge talent - while he struggled whith finding outlets for himself in his childhood and adolescence, he had found a niche for himself in graphic and web design. He was talented and well respected among industry professionals and respected the talents that I had growing up.

As I write this, two months after his death, I find myself desperate to find a way to honor him. He always thought I was a strong writer - and had suggested, at one time, that I pursue copywriting as a career (which I never did). He also solicited me to write for his site: Media Consumes Me(which I never did despite my obsession with television). Ultimately, we pushed each other to create which, despite my talent or passion/enjoyment for it - I stopped doing and he continued to pursue and cultivate up until the day he took his life.

So, in memory of him - and to honor his creativity - I have created this blog. Its aim is undefined and I certainly don't forsee me becoming particularly notorious as a result of its entries, but at the very minimum I can write about his niece - my experiences as a first time mother, my intentions as a parent and my hopes for her future. I can share my television-watching experiences and hopefully make some people laugh. I can itemize my never-ending list as I endeavor to one day move back to New Jersey. And I can, MOST IMPORTANTLY, revel in how much I love my family... neuroses and oddities included without exception. Because, at the end of it all, that's the only thing you really have - it is with you forever.