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8106 › part 1: The death of my brother
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this will be a three parter. Part one about the happenings on april 6th of this year, part two about my relationship to my brother and the final part about his funeral and the aftermath.

If you haven’t known about this yet: my brother Marco took his life on april 6th 2010.
since then i, of course, have been rarely online and lived at my parents’ again. So this will be kind of a diary entry for the past few weeks, the happenings in that time of which you probably don’t know much, and my feelings and experience during that time period.
First the basics you have to know in order to understand the following.
I moved out of my parents house in Ribnitz-Damgarten (north of Germany) when i was 18. since then i sort of alienated a bit from my family – not much, but the usual deal regarding the huge distance between our living places, as i moved 700km away.
My brother was 5 years younger than me, and he also moved out, but not as far as i did. It has only been one year ago that he moved to Berlin in order to study mathematics, which is about 250km away from home. He also started to alienate himself. But not as i did, but by far worse. So nobody saw coming what happened…
over the easter holidays, from the 2nd to the 5th of april, my parents decided to go on vacation. As i was already planning to come along, since my grandparents wanted to celebrate their golden wedding on april 8th, they asked me if i could come a few days prior to the 8th, so i could watch for their pets. I agreed.
I asked my brother if he wanted to join me, so i (and he, too) would not be alone over the holidays, but he refused. He told me, and ONLY me, that he wanted to come along on the 6th or 7th. Now i know why.
I spend those days quite relaxed, watched movies, finished reading a book, visited relatives and such. One thing i’d like to mention here is that i grasped was that people were worried about Marco (as was i, of course). They didn’t know much about him, but nethertheless everybody kinda sensed that something was fishy in his life that should make them worry.
So, when my parents came back on the 5th they awaited a message from him so they would pick him up from the train station, as usual, but they did not get any. Still no big deal, he would come on the next day…
But in the afternoon on the 6th there still was no call or message from Marco, and my parents were really worried this time. So they tried to call him, but with no success. I tried to call him, too, because it’s not unusual for him to ignore calls from our parents, but i also had no success in doing so.
the reason should be obvious for you, fellow reader, as Marco was, by that time, already dead.
I was planning to visit my friend Konrad in Rostock at this day, and as far as things were at this afternoon this was a good coincidence, because i could go online at Konrad and check out on my brother on ICQ or at least via mail. So i packed my laptop. Before my departure i told my mom to try to call my brothers roommate or the parents of his roommate (at this point i wasn’t as worried as they were, as this could have easily been a stupid coincidence, because i am used not to be able to contact him).
So, i arrived at Konrad and was barely able to build up my laptop. I just logged in onto my webmail account when my phone rang. My father calling me to tell me i should head home immediately. No explanation, and i didn’t asked. Right after this i saw that i had one new mail. It was from Marco.
I could not read beyond the first line. “When you’re reading this, I am already dead.”
a goodbye letter. From this point on everything went pretty surreal in my head, because I instantly started to go through a short state of constant denial. So I asked Konrad to read it for me, and tell me what I should know. Drive home, and call the police, he said, because that’s what the letter says. I did not really thought about WHY this would be written in it, but I pretty much did not care at this point. Heading home and getting to hear that something happened and my brother is wounded and in hospital, that’s what my brain only allowed myself to imagine as the worst case scenario.
So I asked Konrad if he could drive me home. From the car I called my dad and said he should call the police for me, but in respond he told me that it’s already too late for that. I did not want to hear ANYTHING through the phone, so I hang up on him after telling I am on my way.
We arrived at home, a police car was already standing there. Konrad got out and immediately talked to one of the officers. I could not leave the car, as I was too afraid of what I would find out. I think I sat there for another two minutes or so until I slowly started to walk outside and on to my way to the front door. My uncle just came out, in tears, hugged me and just told me that I should go to my mother in the living room.
She was sitting on the couch, crying her heart out. I have never seen anyone crying that hard. I sat down right next to her, started to hug her, as I myself couldn’t hold myself back and started to cry, too.
That’s how we spent the next hour.
Nobody said anything about what happened, but things were just too obvious at this point so that I could not deny anything at all anymore. And I pretty much don’t remember anything in particular from this evening anymore, only bits.
I remember Konrad’s mother, who picked him up, walking in. she also is my psychologist, which turned out to be a good coincidence. I remember her talking to the paramedics about what they should get my parents for to calm them down. I remember my father being quite calm and hardly sharing a tear, but that’s typical for him. Not that he is cold-hearted or so, but he is not used to handle his own feelings that well.
And that is all I remember. I have no idea what we did the next few hours, how I spend the next night. I think I could sleep somehow, but I have no clue how I would have been capable of doing so. Was I on drugs, too?
The next days and weeks are also very hard to reconsider for me. I couldn’t do a lot of things, and from the few things I did I can’t recall a logical time pattern for.
The first week was of course the hardest. I pretty much did NOTHING but sobbing, lying around and crying from time to time. Could not eat, could not watch television or play some games to get my mind on other things.
We never were alone, at every time some of my parents friends were there to accompany us through this time. Which was pretty nice, I think. I don’t really liked how my parents handled the whole things, but well, everybody griefs in his own way, so I guess it was okay.
I for myself slowly started to meet Konrad every few days, because that really helped me a lot. It was hard to keep my mind off things, but a friend can do this for you pretty easily. So we talked about everything, made meals, even went to cinema and stuff like that. Kinda like my parents did with they friends, but slightly on a different level.
I even realized that I was able to make sick dark jokes about the whole situation. That kinda helped me dealing with this whole shit. And talking about it and discussing my brothers mind and what to do with his possessions and stuff like that. I am not sure WHY this helped so well with dealing with it. But it did.
I could barely talk to my parents about Marco, because they reacted so fragile to everything.

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last modified: 2010-Nov-29, 21:39:20
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