The Basics

My brother took his life in 2009, he had finally had enough of the noise running through his head. He’d spent his whole life protecting me from the pain he’d endured without knowing I suffered as well.

Since his passing I’ve learned the truth about the trauma he endured. I was traumatized too but because of his need to protect me he took the brunt of it. I was always safest in my room, so it became my sanctuary of peace and still is today.

I was 35 when my brother died, it took almost ten years to realize that my brother had spent his entire life trying to protect me from the very one who brought us into this world.

Our dad left us when we were young, 4 and 6, an absolutely crucial time for children. I don’t remember a lot of it, I have very few memories of my childhood that include my parents. I have one fond memory of my dad when my parents were married that helps me remember it’s very possible he cared deeply about us once.

My brother and I often asked our mother when we would see our dad and we were usually met with, “if he wanted to see you he would”. Once or twice a year we’d get a phone call or a card or a visit, sometimes we’d see him every day for months and then we wouldn’t see or hear from him for years. We both grew up thinking something must have been wrong with us because our own dad wanted nothing to do with either of us.

It wasn’t until just a couple years ago that I cracked open the truth and became an orphan. I did what my brother always wanted to do, and that was ask our father why he left us and I learned the truth about my parents relationship. My mother had already stopped talking to me the year before so I knew I didn’t have much to lose by sitting down with my dad who I knew would tell me the truth. I learned the truth and so many questions were answered. My dad admitted the choices he made probably weren’t the best and I had hoped that maybe he was sorry and wanted to be the dad I remembered him to be but he wasn’t sorry for abandoning us and doesn’t feel like he needs to be any different than how he’s always been.

My brother died before I learned the truth about our parents but it was something he always wanted to know. He died thinking he was defective because the one person he looked up to left him and it was implied to both of us that it was our fault. I now know we were far from defective but sometimes I wonder if he made out better than I did because I get to live the rest of my life knowing they would rather assume I was dead too than to apologize for the childhood we didn’t choose to have.

Disclaimer: my writing is vague, improper and somewhat childlike and that is because I was raised by a narcissist and while I may be dead in her eyes, I’m still being watched and I’m still learning to be okay with myself after all I’ve been through.