Jason, I forgive you.

Jason,

I need to write this letter today, because I need to send it out to the universe before tomorrow. I can’t hold this stuff inside of me anymore, because your life and death is actually breaking me. I can’t think about your suicide without thinking of all the other things that fell apart right after it. I lost my daughter, your niece – at the same time that we lost you. It just took a little longer for her to disappear. I sometimes feel like it’s your fault. But like you wrote in your suicide letter, that you wanted us to take care of neko, you didn’t want her turning out like you. You spelled her name wrong, even in the picture you drew for her. I don’t blame you, because you didn’t know any better. You had no idea because you weren’t around when she was born.

But you took the time to come and meet her, and stay with us and that was important. It was important because for my whole life all I could remember was that you hated me. And I wasn’t sure why. I tried to protect you from being bullied when we were in elementary school. I also tried to protect you from being bullied in high school. I remember that I used to have dreams where I would write you a letter, and I would hang the letters from my ceiling in my bedroom because I was too scared to give them to you. But the letters told you that I loved you, and that I was your sister. I would tell you how much we were alike, and that you should stop hating me. This was a re-occuring dream and every time I would wake, I would feel refreshed like I had finally accomplished something. That we could move on, as a family. That we were mended. But I would soon realize that it was in fact a dream. A dream that would never happen.

You hated me so much, and I still don’t know why. I look at pictures from when we were children, and the way I looked at you. I adored you. You can see that I really looked up to my big brother.

When did you start hating me? Why did you hate me?

You got in trouble and came back to BC from Alberta. I found out you were on your way over to my house in North Van, and my jaw almost dropped to the floor. I just couldn’t believe it.

But you set aside your pride to come and stay with me and your niece. You sat with us at the dinner table. This was so important. I still have that dining room set. It’s sitting outside my suite door, because I can’t use it anymore. You asked me one time if you could take your niece to McDonalds down the street. I was so happy, we were finally connecting. My daughter was the key to us becoming brother and sister again. You took her in her stroller and came back over an hour later. I would love to know what you talked to an 8 month old about.

I remember coming home one time to you laying on the wooden steps into our basement suite. You had a pillowcase filled to the brim with food for us. You looked just like Robin Hood. We ate well after you brought this food. We didn’t have much at that time, because I was in school and money was almost non-existent.

I wish I could have done more. I feel like I should have. When you were laying on the floor of my livingroom, and you were talking about having nothing to live for. I told you that you did and it was your niece. You had her to live for. You pulled down the bandana off your wrist and showed me the mark and said you tried to kill yourself. That you won’t go to the psych ward. I was so lost in my own problems, that I didn’t take it seriously. I thought you were stronger than that. I thought we were stronger than this.

You had taken a lifetime of anger that you had towards me, and set it aside. You lay it to rest and came to my house. You met your niece. You sat at our dinner table with us. You cared.

You cared, so I thought you were stronger than that. I thought you had grown up.

I feel like I have so much to say, but there isn’t the right words to say it. I’m in University now, and I often think the only reason I am alive today, is because you died. That if you hadn’t died, I would have had to. Because every time I wanted to kill myself – I would think about what your suicide did to our family. I couldn’t die, because you did.

I am so fucking mad at you. That is what this boils down to. Why didn’t you want help? Who told you that the psych ward was such an awful thing? Who told you that your life didn’t matter? Why the fuck did you kill yourself the day after mom’s birthday? I am so mad at you. Why DID YOU KILL YOURSELF? You never even gave yourself a chance. I am SO FUCKING MAD AT YOU.

I need to let you go. I need to say goodbye, because you are killing me. You are killing me at the exact same time that I feel you are leading me through life. You are one of the reasons I am going to be a social worker. Because nobody should have to feel the only option left is suicide. Because everyone matters. Because of you, I will try my hardest at becoming the person that I never thought I could be. I am going to do this for you, because you didn’t get the chance to.

Jason, I forgive you.