Loving a Woman Who Lost Her Brother to Suicide

I felt distant from the one I love last night. Even if she was inches away, there may as well have been a galaxy between us.

This sensitivity of mine was always kept under wraps; I allowed a few tears to slide from my tear ducts, and tried not to break down completely. I felt helpless about her grief, and guilty for wanting her to find happiness with me at that moment.

What should have been a romantic and comfy night on the dock at the lake was anything but. We fought, intensely.

The hard truth was, our fight had little to do with us at all.

My words, once understanding and gentle, became harsh in time. I had felt neglected, after giving my all and I didn’t know what to do to bring back the spark in our relationship.

That night, I slept with a burning sensation in my heart. A gallon of Drain-O had metaphorically been poured on it and that burning sensation would come back from time to time — it was always when her grief took over.

About a year ago Julio jumped off the fourth floor of a balcony and survived.

He was alive, but not in one piece.

During that brief moment, Julio didn’t want to live. For reasons I wish I knew, this life was unlivable for him.

Head concaved and bones broken from the impact, an iron lung and IV’s kept his body in homeostasis. A scraggly beard grew on his face and for the first time in his life and his sister couldn’t recognize him.

While many tears erupted from my woman’s face then, the rivers didn’t come till later. Tears and mucus lined the shoulder of my shirt many nights, while my tears would bead the top of her head. The pain and sadness were contagious.

A weeks time passed with family coming in and out of the hospital room, placing crosses and sending prayers to up above.

These prayers, unfortunately, were not answered. Without a miracle, a hard decision needed to be made.

The plug was pulled.

Julio's decision came to fruition, and an assisted life was put to an end.

When I say this, I wonder why he wasn’t assisted before? Where did his mind and heart go in those final fleeting moments, why did they go there? What pain, what confusion, did he need to destroy? Why did he need to destroy the opportunity he had to live? Was this the last option for him.

With the background I was given, I realized, no one can be assisted in silence. His pain was deep beneath the surface, always masked by a grandeur smile, flashed endlessly to fool you into believing otherwise. I believe the responsibilities and expectations as a Panamanian man from a successful family were too much for him to bear.

Julio had Asperger's, and this condition did not help matters in the least.

He was fighting his demons alone.

I remember the first shot I took with him, on our first outing with his sister. I had brought a bottle, little did he know how much of an alcoholic I was. We went drink for drink, and greatly I appreciated his determination to keep up with me.

We became friends that night.

No matter how much self-doubt or pain Julio was going through, I believe he deserved to have that pain lifted, by family, friends, fellow human beings; not in the way he decided. We all have our internal struggles, I know that if only light or compassion had caught his eye, life may have continued.

I couldn’t imagine his hopelessness or confusion, the immense willpower he had to leap off that three-story balcony in Panama. I wish anyone, someone, could have been there. My girlfriend wished she could have been there in those moments. I wish she was. I know things would have been different today.

But no one was there to deter or coax him out of it. No one knew of his contemplation to take his life.

With a click of a mouse 60,000 was deposited into his parents account for life insurance . Julio's mother was prescribed man-made chemical pills to kill the human condition called pain. All other lives connected, including mine, were affected.

When his precious soul ascended from the pain and responsibilities of this world, all connections were left to handle the consequences. Julio was deeply loved and to this day there is void missed where he once was.

I testify that suicide disrupts many lives. Loving a person in the midst of grief is one of the most complicated experiences in a romantic relationship. With proper care, a relationship can strengthen after a catastrophe. I wished this was the reality in my case, but nothing comes as you desire in moments like these.

One broken web brings can bring down an entire infrastructure.

Notwithstanding the spider has the will to build again, because it’s survival depends on it. A beautiful web not only brings in food, and dwelling space, but beauty in the most hazardous of environments at times. The upkeep of my beautiful web, shared by my partner, was under siege every day.

Growing in a romantic relationship, during grief, was near impossible. Our relationship was started years before, with many different labels and periods. Her love came for me first, when I was I unprepared and unwilling. I had always loved her, despite my unwillingness to say it.

I declared my love after Julio passed. I couldn’t have chosen a worse time to commit my love, but I did only because I was filled with love to give. The amount of love she could afford to give was scarce, because she was still experiencing a love lost with her brother.

Understanding love became a struggle.

I wanted to be there for her, but reciprocating love for me, herself or anyone else proved difficult. Little held any importance, when death and loss were so fresh in heart and mind.

I understood her struggle. So notwithstanding, I filled her with my love, even if she was unable to match me.

At one time of our life, courting was exhilarating, and filled with adoration for one another. No cares in the world with freedom to choose contentment and happiness above all else. Post-Julio, intimacy, outings, simple gestures or acts were attempted, but not accomplished fully.

It was trying times of trial and error, with new emotions that neither of us had experienced. They were alien to us. I had to learn how to deal with this new inhabitant called “grief.” The setback (setbacks) in this new world were numerous, and many of these setbacks, broke our spirits, trust, and happiness.

Her heart was broken. Even if I knew where every piece went, I couldn’t put it back together. After Julio, I realized that her heart was not only broken, but it was also reshaped to handle a new life, a life disrupted. As unprepared as I was for what was to come, I never surrendered to the challenges.

I suffered vicariously, knowing my suffering was insignificant in comparison to hers.

Many times I was told these words, “you don’t understand, you haven’t lost a brother.” ,“ These things take time.”, “Please stop pressuring me to be happy.”

These were all adequate statements. Through counseling from friends, I realized my downfall came from personalizing her pain. It was her pain, not mine. It needed to be remedied by her. I couldn’t bring her brother back, I couldn’t quick fix her emotions, I couldn’t bring her the happiness that comes from having a sibling. While my place in her life was important, it was very much different. I needed to learn how to be there while her emotions ran their course.

The truth is, I gave myself fully because I loved her. But I was not always a patient man, nor did I listen in a capable way, because of my imperfections and natural desire to fulfill my own needs and happiness.

Often I became angry at myself for not being better, not being strong enough to show wisdom and strength, patience and understanding. For not being her rock in the midst of a storm. I became angry at Julio, at times.

All things considered, my loving understanding was admirable, in an attempt. I still wished I was better at that time. I wanted to be adequate, to deal with these situations of grief but was unprepared in many moments. The moments I became angry at her were the moments I found disgust within myself. It was not my intention, nor hers, to hurt.

The hurt came from an unexpected tragedy, not from us.

All I wanted was for her to be okay, okay with us, and thriving in our relationship; having outings and dates, intimacy and affection, goals and growth. As normal as it was to desire those things, it was too much to ask for, at the time. I wasn’t letting time heal the wounds.

We loved each other, I knew without a second, a doubt, or second thought. But growth and the maturation of our love was not ideal at this time.

Throughout it all, one thing coursed through my mind constantly.

Julio, why did you leave us? Why would you leave her like this?

Julio, you should be here.

I knew we had to find a way to move forward in life. Because life is a gift, no matter how terrible life may get. There were questions unanswered. Moments that never happened or moments that she wished could have happened. My woman's dreams were filled with pain, and as I held her through the night, I could feel all of them. The energy of grief filled the room.

My heart ached, and I found understanding at some junctions. The only complication came from coexisting with her grief and coping mechanisms, that were not a recommended form of rehabilitation.

Along the rolling highs and lows I just had to be there for her, but in reality, I wanted to do so much more.

This is where I stand now. I love her, I truly do. Nothing will persuade me otherwise. We say we love each other regularly now, I am prepared for times when she grieves, and will always support her happiness.

You stay alongside those you love, in support and patience in these times. This is my intention and, I am staying with her as she removes her weight and reaches the end of the tunnel of grief.

Even if the journey rolls a long way, I will ride it to the end. Then create a new life and love, even after tragedy and loss.