I have two brothers but I have only been close to one of them.

Samuel*, the youngest, and I shared a deep connection from the start. We were sometimes each other people’s best friends.

It doesn’t matter that there’s almost a decade between us. I often invited him to hang out with me and my friends when we went to the movies, the park, or wherever teenagers hung out when everything was closed.

And throughout our lives, I was the first (and sometimes the only) he confided his secrets to.

As for my other brother, Adam*, we never had much of a relationship.

Even though we were only two years apart, things were still awkward between us. I always felt like he didn’t like me and always felt barely tolerated by him.

So when tragedy struck our family, I thought this could change. I was wrong.

Instead, Adam’s wife caused a complete rift between us.

She says Samuel’s death is all my fault.

A few years ago, Samuel death by suicide.

This day was one of the most traumatic of my life because I never saw it coming.

Samuel’s boyfriend, Jeremy*, found him and called an ambulance, but it was too late. And when I learned that he had been confirmed dead, my body reacted in a visceral way: I collapsed to the ground. in sorrowthe screams and sobs that escaped me were unrecognizable.

A family member then had to go there, but unfortunately everyone was too far away. I lived across the country from Samuel, while Adam was 300 miles away traveling. The only person available was Karen*.

This made me uncomfortable for a number of reasons – not least because she had previously caused problems with our parents, even leaving my mother in tears on several occasions – but there was no other choice.

Karen arrived and, for what reason I still don’t know, read Samuel’s suicide note. I know this because she took it upon herself to tell us what her last words were.

She said he wanted his family to know how much he loved them and that he was sorry for hurting us like that.

However, these words turned out to be a complete lie.

When I saw the note for myself, I learned that Samuel had spoken only to Jeremiah. It was a deeply personal and loving message and family was not mentioned once. I was shocked.

I asked Karen if there was another message and she became furious. She said I was a horrible person because I stuck my nose in the wrong places.

As I later found out, this reaction was because I had caught her in a lie. Jeremy told me there was no other message, that she made it up.

I guess maybe she had good intentions. Perhaps she thought that by creating a different narrative she was bringing some comfort to the family. But that only made things worse.

All she had to do then was apologize, acknowledge that her actions were wrong, and feel genuine remorse. Maybe then I would have found a way to forgive him.

Instead, she defended herself and said even more hurtful, cruel and untrue things about me.

She called me a liar who doesn’t take responsibility. She claimed that I always tried to make everything about me. She even said that I must be mentally ill because I was “always causing drama” – the irony was not lost on me.

Even though I knew that none of his statements had any basis in reality, I never found the words to defend myself.

Finally, even though I hung up on her, she called me back immediately. Gripped by the grief of the sudden loss of the brother I loved so much that I could not think clearly and stupidly, I responded.

This time I kept her on speakerphone, and as she spewed more of her vile insults, my husband was there to hear every disgusting word.

And then she went too far.

“No wonder Samuel committed suicide,” she said. “You treated him so horribly. Now you have to live with it being your fault.

Everything went quiet – like the blood was rushing too hard into my ears – and I felt numb.

My husband took the phone from me and hung up. I then went to bed and, once the words finally sank in, I sobbed for hours.

Those who know me, my brothers and our family dynamic assured me that what she said about the suicide being my fault had absolutely no merit. None.

But in that moment, his attack hit me deep in my heart.

His words rang in my ears for weeks. They exploited my fears, took advantage of the grief and doubt that suicide brings to the survivors of its victims.

As a result, I barely slept for about a month. I cried without warning and, worst of all, I was afraid she was right.

“No wonder Samuel committed suicide,” she said. “You treated him so horribly. Now you have to live with it being your fault’

I began to believe that I had killed the person I loved so much and I wondered if Samuel had confided something about me to him and that I had hurt him in some way unwittingly. know.

It was killing me not knowing. At my lowest, this accusation made me wish for death myself.

After speaking with a counselor and giving myself a few months to think through my thoughts, I was able to overcome the seeds of doubt she had planted – although, if I’m being completely honest, many of the memories that I and my brother will remain forever. deformed thanks to its bile. I will never forgive him for that.

The only other thing I wanted now was for Adam to know the truth about everything she had told me.

However, I never felt like I could tell him. We had never had this kind of relationship and I seriously doubted he would take my side over Karen’s.

Additionally, I had no interest in intentionally hurting him or causing drama or marital strife.

So my parents and I never told him about his verbal attacks on us. Instead, Adam only heard his wife’s point of view – I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she told him that it was me who called her and verbally abused her.

As a result, Adam and I had no communication for just a few weeks after losing Samuel.

I sometimes called or sent a simple, friendly text to say “hello” or “how are you?” but he didn’t respond once.

Karen didn’t let go of him right away either. She continued her attacks, indirectly.

In the months following the incident, she sent pages of text messages to my mother saying she was “worried about me” while trying to make me out to be a horrible person.

As Mom’s memory slowly fades into the abyss of Alzheimer’s, it doesn’t take long for confusion to set in. I will never forget when she called me after the texts arrived; she was sobbing so intensely that I could barely understand what she was saying.

We then agreed that it would be best to delete the texts and block Karen’s number from her phone completely – it was just too painful for her.

Now we’ve all been blocked from social media and since then I’ve completely given up on building bridges with my brother.

And aside from the occasional text or visit (which I’m convinced he only does out of a weak sense of obligation), he’s also almost disappeared from Mom’s life.

I often wonder if, if Adam’s marriage were to fall apart, he would be ready to be part of the family again. But I don’t think so.

Truth be told, even though I started this article by saying “I have two brothers,” maybe I should have said I had two brothers. Because now I don’t have any.

*Names have been changed

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