I inherited my brother’s laptop after his suicide: I lived most of my life never having to deal with a delicate situation, or any momentary thing that tried to bounce my life off track. Not only that but I spent most of my life happily with a happy family who did happy normal family things together like camping, going to fairs, vacations to the beach; one of those picture perfect families that appeared with genuine smiles in photo albums.
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Now that I look back, I guess my brother, Shawn, and I were spoiled with love in ways that many children weren’t and it just makes me thankful for the way that we grew up. Close.
That’s why, originally, it didn’t make sense to me at all the day that my world got shattered. I guess I could have said that I saw it coming the day I saw my brother leave his room after about a week straight in his own personal hold-up, dark circles under his eyes and his skin as pale as a vampire in some cheap horror film. He just stood there in his doorway and stopped when he realized that I, too, had come out of my room at the same time. I gave him a nod, trying to be careful with him knowing that something had gone awry recently although he failed to clue in the family who believed we were closer than anything. He was only nineteen and myself two years younger and I thought we were indestructible. Safe from the negatives of life.