Mark was 13 years old and I was 14. It was the day of his graduation from middle school. We went out to dinner as a family, came home and we talked together for a while in our rooms like we always did. We never saw it coming. He had everything going for him, the scouts were scouting him, everything was fine, and so we thought.

We shared a bathroom and when I got up the next day the door was locked. I banged on it but no answer. I finally had to call my dad and he busted open the door. I was the first one to walk in. He hung himself; he was dressed in his baseball uniform, hat tilted on his head. I can’t get that image out of my mind. They wanted to do a psychological autopsy but my mom refused.
I don’t have a choice but to think of those careless childhood days when we were free. We were so close in age, so we grew and intertwined our lives, same school, same friends, same enjoyment out of life.

I wanted to be like my brother, so confident and popular. So ambitious, daring and outgoing, while I was painfully shy. Who else would ski the black run after two lessons? It seemed he had no fear while I held back, scared of everything, he acted on impulse, doing what no one else dare.

We loved him so much but maybe that was not enough. I have to live with the knowledge of his sacrifice. I just hope somewhere he is at peace, that carefree boy again from my past. Nothing can take the memories; they will help him to live forever.

I went to Wildwood NJ today and took some of Mark’s ashes with me. Releasing the ashes into the ocean was both strange and beautiful. I know that my brother left his body years ago. In that sense, his ashes were not significant. Yet the ashes represented someone I loved. They were what remained of Mark. They had belonged to my brother. They were Mark’s atoms, for the time he used them. Holding them in my hand seemed sad and good at the same time. I put my fingers into the ocean and let my brother’s ashes float away from me.

I was amazed to think that my brother’s body, gray ash, is now able to become part of another living being or many beings. And I know my brother’s spirit is living and someday again I will be able to see him, a being more glorious than I can imagine.

Thanks for sharing your memories of a most beautiful soul. You can't help but wonder what he'd being doing now, if only... :(

How special that you two were close. How fortunate for both of you. :hug:

I loved ready that Mark is free at least...putting his ashes in the ocean was a beautiful thing to do. You know that he is trumbling thru the universe. :hug:

Thank you for sharing this. It's beautiful.

:hug: ((( BJ ))) :hug:

BJ :hug:
I love what you did . And loved what you have shared.
you are truely beautiful BJ. Thankyou sister :hug:
:hug:

:I-Agree: :heartthrob: :) :hug:

(((BJ))) Bless your heart...the Atlantic ocean. I can't think of a more perfect place.

We kept my sister's ashes over the winter. Couldn't stand the thought of releasing them in the snow. Put her in her favorite spot on Easter morning, a beautiful day it was too. It is something to hold their ashes in your hand. Even though the body was their vessel, it still belonged to someone you loved dearly.

I'm so happy at the progress you've made in just the last year. In awe is more like it. Grief is so hard. :hug:

((BJ)) How beautiful:hug: Thank you for sharing more of your dear brother ((Mark)) with us, and for sharing your moving experience of setting him free:hug: I too am in awe of you! Much love :hug:

For a while I told myself and others that it is not just my brother's death I have to get over, but also his life. My biggest fear is that I’m going to end up like him. When I was given a diagnosis of bipolar disorder, I really became concerned.

In the end, I think it makes no sense to look for the reason his death was so difficult. No one ever really gets over the death of a loved one. And it is particularly difficult when the person has taken his own life. No matter what you did or tried to do, you will always feel that there was something you could have—should have—done to prevent it. I still cringe every time I remember being mean to my brother as a kid, every time I teased him.

In my heart of hearts, I knew he was already gone, but in my hope of hopes, I kept telling myself that maybe we might have found him in time. Remembering Mark and talking about him helps. I still think about him and miss him every day. He was the one person that I knew I could count on, no matter what. He is the one I was going to share memories of our childhood with when we were old. Now I’ll never have a chance to be an Aunt.

It takes so long, and we wonder if our hearts will ever be made whole or be healed. I’d like to believe that Ernest Hemingway’s statement, “The world breaks everyone, and afterward many are stronger at the broken places.” As a person of faith, I call out to Jesus to heal my broken heart and lighten the deep hurt within me. Not only for Mark but also for my mom who I miss terribly.

What would Mark be doing today? Of that I’m certain. He’d be pitching for the NY Yankees. No angels in the outfield, but on the pitching mound. And I’d be one proud sister.

I don't want to say goodbye to Mark, I just want him to be free. He loved the ocean and we spent many weekends there at the Jersey shore. I felt like I was taking him home. :hug: