I am at my Dad's house tonight. My childhood home. We moved here when I was just under three years old so I don't remember much about the house before. As far as I am concerned this is the house I grew up in. It has seen a lot happen over the years but my Dad currently lives here with his mother who moved down from up north to live with him.
I haven't lived here for nearly 2 years. I moved out shortly after turning 23 and losing two dogs in the space of 5 days to cancer. I miss living with my Dad a lot but I have to admit sharing a home with my Grandma really got to me.
Since all of this has kicked off I have struggled when visiting my Dad as I realise the primary trauma to my PTSD is my brothers death.
When I was 14 years old I decided to skip hockey practice and just come home from school on the normal school bus. It was November 11th 2003. I should have been coming home with my middle brother but I called him to let him know I was going home.
I got off the school bus and walked the short distance to my house. A week before I had realised how good my life was, I was happy, my family were stable, I had a well paid job as a baby sitter and house sitter, I had two great dogs and two great brothers. Life was good and I appreciated it.
I didn't have my house key as I had plan on being back with MB (middle brother) so I hadn't brought it with me. I popped over the road and took our spare out of the neighbours electricity meter box, something I had done umpteen times before.
I unlocked the door, I could hear the dogs bouncing around with excitement in their cages (they weren't yet trusted loose in the house) but I could also see my brother. He was in a strange position, hanging on a rope in the stair well. The stairs were right in front of the door.
I laughed, he was in his pj's and I presumed he was pulling a prank. I approached him and said his name. At which point I reached out and turned him round. He was cold and hard. His face was grey. I panicked. I didn't know what to do so I ran in to the street and screamed for help, something which I regret to this day. My neighbours, the ones who I had taken the key out of the box from, came out. They asked me what was wrong and I just waved at the house. The husband approached and saw what I had seen. This is why I feel guilty because I know that image drove him to drink for a long time and made him struggle to sleep, if I had been stronger and called the police myself he would never have had to see that.
Unfortunately he shut the door as he walked away and I had dropped the key inside in my panic. They led me to their house and called the appropriate authorities. I will not go in to detail now about when my parents and MB arrived but needless to say it was a long wait before my family appeared due to them all working.
It turned out my brother had hung himself with his hands half handcuffed behind his back. The other end of the Ju Jitsu belt he had used was tied to the corner post of my bed.
All evening all I worried about were my dogs. They had been shut in all day with police and all sorts in and out. They gave me something to focus on.
When we were allowed in to the house nearly 6 hours later, 10pm at night, my parents had to vacuum up the glass where the police had broken down the front door after my neighbour had shut it.
I refused to go in via the front door and I was numbly led round the back. We all slept downstairs that night as a family. It was two days before I would go upstairs again and even that was done with my eyes shut at a blind run.
I refused to sleep in my bedroom until it as moved around. I couldn't bear the thought of my bed being part of it. I was numb and returned to school within days. I wanted everything to be normal. I wanted to forget but it was impossible. Everyone treated me differently. I lost friends because of it. My family worried about my lack of tears but I didn't know what to feel.
I would not enter the house through the front door and although I never told my parents I didn't sleep properly until I moved bedrooms years later when MB moved out.
Even now I don't come in through the front door if I can avoid it. If I do I press myself to the frosted glass first to check that there isn't anyone in the hall first. I cannot walk up the stairs without seeing him in my head. Sitting here now in the living room I can look to my right and see him sat at the computer just like the night before he died telling me about his new website and bouncing from side to side because it was all coming together.
My geeky older brother who died two weeks off of his 20th birthday. I outlived him by five years this year. He was a great brother, so caring and so loving. He always took my side against MB and although 5 years older he took time to explain things to me. I miss him so much.
His death took more from me than my brother though. I had lost others in the past, a grandad and a much loved dog but the loss of my older brother in such a way took a lot more. It took my innocence and my happy outlook on life. Everything changed. I was no longer the happy girl with a normally family, to everyone at school I was the girl who found her brother dead. They treated me like a leper, I do not blame them, it is a lot for any 14 year old to handle but I felt so alone. I daren't speak to my parents about it incase it upset them, my middle brother was so angry about it all I couldn't talk to him either. I wouldn't talk to a stranger about it so I carried on in silence.
The memories haunt me to this day. They make it hard to be at my Dad's house. I find myself rushing up the stairs. Staring at the spot. My heart rate through the roof, my mind haunted with what it saw that day. This year is 11 years. November is always a bad time for me. My sleep is disturbed by images that are seared in to my brain. Images that even now I can see as I type this, my last memories of my brother. I wish I could have remembered the happy 19 year old from the night before but someone had to find him and in some ways I am glad no one else in my family had to see him like that. Only I carry those memories, no one else is hurt by them and I will carry them close to me to protect my family from them.
It does cost me the comfort of staying at my childhood home though. I find it triggering to be here but it is more than made up for in the presence of my family, especially my fantastic Dad. He doesn't know everything and I doubt he ever will but I know he is there for me no matter what. A better Dad no one could ever ask for.