The end of a chapter.

I got the news in a text message- looking down at my phone staring at a message from my aunty that started with the words “I’m sorry to write this to you in a text” I assumed the message was going to end in something like “I really need you to pay me back the money you owe me” but unfortunately that wasn’t it. I kept reading but my eyes missed a couple of words and focused on “SUICIDE” I froze like my brain just couldn’t go further. Why the heck would my aunt be messaging me about suicide I thought.

My brain felt like I was on a train, going a million miles an hour, with no sign of slowing down. News flash- It wasn’t, I looked around my feet were firmly on the ground. This was real. This is the story of my family trauma.

I stopped luffing about and decided to start reading from the beginning again. I just knew something was off but I was distracted by conversation “Jess I am so sorry to have to tell you this in a message, but Adrian completed suicide last night” I let out one giant gasp. My chest hit my stomach and I started in disbelief as my ex-partner stood in the doorway starting at me. I couldn’t talk, I just threw the phone into his hands while mine could do nothing but shake. I hit the floor and screamed. My scream turned into hard sobs. My cousin was dead. He was gone and he had chosen to end his own life. To this day the pain still passes through my chest, like a hot knife slicing butter.

Guilt overrides me like an entire ocean had washed over my body. I hadn’t spoken to him in almost 3 years. In actual fact, I didn’t even really like him much. I thought he was a pigheaded brat. The guilt of never making an effort to be there for him in the past few years was almost unbearable. Was it my fault collectively with everyone else that he killed himself because no one liked him? Why didn’t anyone like him? Did he truly die of loneliness?

He was overweight, lived in a horrifically dirty house. The one time I did visit, was a surprise call in. The house was filthy there were cans and bottles piled up everywhere throughout the house, no room on the floor to walk, dishes piled to the sky in the kitchen. I thought to myself that he was an absolutely terrible parent- always yelling at the kids. The two older children, one boy and one girl, had been into foster care multiple times, and he needed lots of assistance caring for the children appropriately. Adrian didn’t work and gosh I thought he was the laziest drain on society, always with an excuse. I am being brutally honest because you cannot share your raw truthful guilt if you don’t share why or if you don’t have a reason to feel it. In this case I know it’s more complicated than that and I will get into more detail as I go along.

The weeks following that text message were a complete mess. I cried every day but still managed to go to work. I did my best to limit my crying to the one-hour car ride to work and from work, and whilst at home. I had to limit home crying as much as possible because my 8-year-old daughter was home when I was home crying. I cried in bed at night until I would fall asleep. It sent me into a complete whirlwind of depression. I was angry and over come with grief and anger.

He passed away at the end of march, and the week of his funeral, that Easter Friday I tested positive for Covid. I couldn't go interstate to be with my family to grieve the loss with my family. I stayed home and cried buckets of years and I listened to every possible suidice song imaginable. I slept, cried, listened to music and repeated the same thing.

When I was back on my feet I screamed.

The day I found out I had to tell my mum and it was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. My mum and my Aunty haven’t spoken in almost 10 years. I honestly thought my mum wasn’t going to be very upset. How wrong I was, and it was so traumatic telling her. I had to gather myself first and was lucky enough my ex come along with me for support. She asked what was wrong as soon as I walked in, it must have been obvious I had been crying. I mean realistically I probably looked like I’d just walked out of a horror film, looking back.

I was so blunt in my words and said I’m not here for a good reason. I need to tell you something. Mum looked at me confused. I said Adrian committed suicide last night” They were the hardest words I have ever had to say to another person. Mum looked at me blank for a moment and then started crying the most emotional cry I have seen. I had to hold her up because she was falling to the ground. I just held her while she sobbed into my shoulder screaming “No, No, No, No”. I sat her down on a chair while my ex went and made cups of tea for us. Looking back, I wish I had told my mum in a kinder way. I wasn’t trying to be brunt but just get the words out in the best way I could.

I couldn’t spot thinking about all the hurt that fills this entire family and how it is just passed on from generation to generation. It’s like a family burden or curse that can not be untamed. That is without Adrian’s own demons and hurt he was suffering.

I know that my family trauma dates back a long time and so many people are hurt and traumatized and are going to be for generations to come, because that’s how trauma works. It gets carried through our blood like a passage of rights. People don't know how to overcome it and so the pattern continues.

You’re probably wondering what trauma I could possibly be talking about and how it’s relevant to my cousin making the final decisions that ultimately ended his life. Life and death is such a complicated thing. I'm not talking about life changing event or one bad occurrence.

I would say it started with my granddad- aka “poppy” Known to Adrian and his siblings as “Poppy Max”.

I don’t know many things about this man and as a child I did love him but the trauma he has burned into all our lives is insatiable. The lack of self-awareness and reckless damage one person can do with their own unresolved damage and pain.

Poppy max went to the Vietnam war in the year 1968. He come home for a long weekend where him and my beautiful Nanna were married during that time. My mum was conceived during 1969 and born during July of 1970, Poppy left to go back 10 days after she was born. I don’t know all of the finer details, but two children were to follow after. My Aunty Marie 2 years later, and my Uncle Scooter was a surprise baby a few years after that.

Great time to start a family in the mist of coming home from such horrific events and being apart of so much hate and anger.

From a young age my mother and her siblings learnt that a man can hit a woman, if he so chooses. My poppy would take his rage out on my Nanna and hurt her. One of the first outbursts he had after coming home was being given rice with his dinner. The story I was told was he threw it across the room into the wall and said “I’m not eating that crap” probably more foul language I could imagine.

He was abusive with the children, and they knew he was in authority, always. After being in the army and being in the war, he joined the police force. There are horrific stories of him using his authority to hurt other people. Things that I don’t even want to repeat, that’s another story. He was an alcoholic and drank to his full potential. He cheated on my Nana their entire marriage. While he stayed home. He abused her physically, mentally, financially, psychologically, emotionally, verbally.

I believe my mother has a disgruntled view of her dad because she idolized that man for a long time. My mother has PTSD passed on from her father and his abusive tactics. It took my mum a long time to realize his treatment was unfair and he was probably a true narcissist even tho that term was not known at that time. I should mention that none of them have spoken to him or each other in years. My mum moved to a different state and my uncle moved overseas.

Being raised by a mother in the 90’s who has severe mental health problems is an interesting perspective, I believe. It still wasn’t frowned upon to hit your child or scream at them if you were in a bad mood. Parenting tactics that are now considered horrific treatment of a child. I know my Aunty was very similar with her two boys.

My mum was pregnant at 17 and my Aunty pregnant at 15. I sadly cannot continue Adrian’s story without sharing his own mother's trauma too. Aunty Marie was kicked out of school, told she could never return. She was kicked out of home by her dad. In those days you were considered a “hussy” if you were a pregnant teenage girl, in hindsight not much has changed but at the same thing a lot has. My Aunt then moved in with the abusive man that was the father of her child. He abused her in every way and not even two years later she gave birth to her second baby conceived by rape. Even though back then I don’t think it was considered that if you were in a defacto relationship. My aunt was lucky enough to get out of that situation, but she was young, immature, no support and it was a different time. She raised her children by screaming, smacking, yelling and being an authoritarian. She did all that she knew how. I don’t judge her it breaks my heart because I have no doubt that her harsh parenting contributed to his pain and inability to have a normal adult life. It is well known that the early childhood years are crucial for healthy development. Marie ended up finding a fabulous man when the boys were small. They had extra children and together they seemed to really become great parents, not perfect of course but they definitely tried. Unfortunately, Marie’s trauma did not stop they’re for her and she certainly did not have it easy.

Roughly 6 years into her marriage her 4th child was run over accidentally by a car and killed. Unfortunately, the two older boys witnessed the accident and had tried getting the person driving to stop the car and seen it happen in front of their eyes. They were very brave boys and even carried their brother’s coffin at the funeral. I could not even imagine the pain and grieve that they experienced during that time. Marie was grief stricken for a long time but somehow managed to get through. It’s been 20 years since it happened, and I still wonder how she is standing sometimes. A couple years after this I don’t know exact dates, but Marie was diagnosed with brain cancer. She survived but it affected her speech and appearance forever. She’s still fully able to do everything she needs to do.

I am just trying to give some inkling into the events that can cause a person to get to where we are at today. Pain starts somewhere, we don’t wake up one day and hate ourselves or think it’s to hard for no reason.

I know my mum suffered for a long time and still does with mental health issues, I blamed her for a long time for the fact she wasn’t always a good mum even though, I know she was doing the best she could with the knowledge and skills she had. My mum had a steal born child when she was 17, that was the first one, and then she had me. My mum believed that she was going to have a boy when pregnant with me, in fact had never even considered the fact I might come out a girl. She wasn’t very accepting of the fact when I did come out a girl child. I don’t hate her for this, but it took a lot of self-discovery to realise that my mum was trying to cope with the loss of her baby Jamie. My mum was so very traumatized by her own childhood, losing her baby and ending up in the arms of more abusive men.

I’ve actually never met two women who have had so much horrible stuff happen to them and the horrific treatment from men their entire lives be so cruel. My dad was also abusive controlling and used my mum in many ways.

One of the things that struck me when Adrian died was our childhood just kept flashing before my eyes. Us as innocent little kids, playing laughing, fighting. I used to love Adrian so much. Him and his brother were my favorite cousins. What changed why did I want to stop hanging out with him…. When did I grow disdain for him?

And then it hit me... I remember the first time he tried to kiss me when we were out the back of our great nan's garden shed. I’m not talking about a little peck either. He grabbed my face and held me while he tried to full on pash me with his tongue in my throat. I was horrified and didn’t know what to do. I think I just ran off at the time.

I remember my mum and aunt at the time just brushing it off as “kissing cousins”. – Whatever that’s meant to mean…. But it didn’t stop it just got worse. Given we lived in different states, so it was avoidable most of the time. Adrian become infatuated with me. He would try to have long extended hugs with me, tickle fights where he tried groping me at the end. He would sit behind me when we were teenagers and want to hug for a long time while I was fishing or similar. He even tried sharing beds with me when I slept at my aunt’s house. Luckily it never got to that stage, but he would come into my room in the morning and try to grope me until I was screaming.

It makes sense to me now why I tried to distance myself from him, why he creeped me out, why I judged him harshly. He was what I believed to be a perv.

It come out a couple of years ago that Adrian was actually molested and grossly abused by his biological father. Some family members thought he was lying; some didn’t care, and some were indifferent. Some listened but didn’t act. He never told me personally but I 100% believe that he was a victim, and it just went on top of his other wounds. He was accused of wanting attention, lying and being dramatic.

There’s so much to unpack and the overwhelming guilt comes back full swing.

I remember when I come out of isolation after Covid I just screamed- maybe I was losing my mind from lack of humanity and community but I screamed. Loud get wrenching screams..... I screamed for Adrian, I screamed for my mum, her loss, her regrets and broken relationship with her sister, missing out on her nephew.

I screamed for my Aunty Marie. At the end of the day this was her loss. Her first baby. She had raised him since she was 15 years old, given up her education, home, life, finances and dreams to be his mum. Was she perfect? absolutely not but she loved him truly. This was the second son she was saying goodbye to and it's not fair.

I screamed for my beautiful Nana. She didn't deserve the life she was given. Her parents didn't want her to marry my pop but she cried for days and begged them until they finally agreed. I believe that was always a huge regret for them. Every time she cried alone at the pub while he was out, drunk, with other women... Or abused her about the food on his plate.

I screamed for Adrian's children, all four of them. Do they even have a chance to break the cycle. Are they going to get through this.

... and I screamed for Adrian... His pain so deep that he couldn't live another day. Leaving his babies that I know he loved. He wasn't perfect, I know that. He was broken and damaged. The loneliness that he must of felt, heartbreaking.

Even if the guilt is not mine to own, even if it’s not my fault, even if I had every right to think he was a creepy perv at the time… It doesn’t stop the fact that he is dead, by choice, and it’s all connected.

Poppy max was traumatized, he hurt his wife and especially his children, they carried the burden of his trauma on their shoulders for far to long. The affects of being raised by mentally unstable mothers with forever be with me, my siblings, my cousins and most definitely Adrian. What’s worse is that Adrian had four beautiful children who are already hurt by their damaged father. They will carry his burden and no doubt pass it on.

There is so much hurt in the world my family was torn apart before he took his life and it will be torn for a long time after.

Our family trauma that bounds us, has too broken us.

Adrian had potential; his story had more chapters that we will never be able to read.

And through the overwhelming hurt, and guilt I do very much love him and miss him. I wish he was alive and I wish we all got a do over. Maybe guilt is actually regret wrapped in a small package to some degree.

All I know is I want to get off this speeding train... I never paid for a ticket anyway. Neither did Adrain and he jumped to soon.