Something Good

April Edition

“Tell me something good,
just one good thing, just tell me
something that will get me through
the hours the days the weeks that bring
nothing of any goodness, just more
news of other things […]”

Margaret Atwood, excerpt from Paper Boat

Today it’s been 21 years since my younger brother, my only sibling, died by suicide.

almost all the photographs I have of my brother are terrible—lots of disposable camera pics. life before smart phones was wild.

Matt was a musician and an activist. He was funny, incredibly smart, and aggressively weird. He was kind of an asshole sometimes, in the way that really intelligent, principled people can be. I’m not sure if he would have grown out of that, but I hope not. I like to imagine a balding, soft-bellied, almost 43-year-old version of him still mercilessly calling all of us out on our shit.

Which isn’t to say he didn’t have a huge heart. Matt loved fiercely and felt deeply. He cared a lot, about everything and everyone. This was a gift. It’s also a hard way to live, especially when you’re young.

He was 21 when he died. I was 24, and honestly, I didn’t know how I’d survive the grief. It felt like his death cast a shadow—not only over the lives of everyone who loved him, but over his life, too. Thinking about him was agony, and yet I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Talking about it made it worse. Writing about it helped, eventually.

But for me, the thing that helped most was (unfortunately, annoyingly, completely unfairly,) time.

I know what you’re thinking, Margaret—get to the good news. Well, here it is:

Twenty-one years later, I love telling my kids about the shenanigans my brother and I got up to. I love looking at old pictures of him and hearing stories. Two anniversaries ago, I asked all his old friends via social media what they remembered about him, and what they shared filled my heart with actual joy. The shadow is still there, but it no longer covers everything. My brother’s life gets to live in the light.

The good news is that 21 years later, I’m still loving him. Still trying to extend that love out into the world. Still trying to give that love to myself.

Twenty-one years later I’m still here. And there were a lot of years, back in the beginning, when I didn’t know if I would be.

The good news is that healing is possible. There is reason to hope. There is reason to stay.

If you’ve lost someone to suicide, please remember: you are not alone. Here are a list of resources that I found helpful in my early years of grieving:

https://allianceofhope.org

https://afsp.org/ive-lost-someone/

https://www.catholiccharities.net/behavioral-health-programs/loss-loving-outreach-to-survivors-of-suicide/

If you are suicidal, also please remember: you are not alone. If you’re in the US, call or text 988.

Outside the US: https://www.iasp.info/suicidalthoughts/

What’s your good news for April? Please tell me! Shared joy is compounded joy.