Dying a Thousand Deaths.

In recognition of National Suicide Prevention Week, I’m sharing an excerpt from Post-Its and Polaroids. If you are depressed or contemplating harming yourself, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1–800–273-TALK (8255) or contact the Crisis Text Line by texting TALK to 741741.

I’ve read that when a person commits suicide he or she dies once, but those left behind die a thousand times. Day after week after month, they die by rehashing conversations, questioning interactions, suppressing overwhelming guilt … asking why, wondering if they could have prevented it, analyzing conversations for signs they might have missed. All this over and over and over until they’re crazy. Yes, those left behind suffer long after the lost loved one’s pain has subsided.

My brother Brian was the 5th born child, and the last child of the “first family.” My first 5 siblings were born in about as many years. Then there was a 5-year gap before my closest brother and I joined the party. Brian was a clown. Next to Chris, he was the brother I was closest to, both in proximity and emotion. He had a great sense of humor that he often used as a defense mechanism to cover up the pain he carried. Our oldest nephew nicknamed him “Balky,” and it stuck for the rest of his life.

Balky unarguably suffered the worst of my dad’s wrath, who was mercilessly tough on my gentle, freckled brother. He called him a liar, criticized, berated, and condemned him. Nothing Balky did measured up to my dad’s lofty expectations from the time he was a…