Frankie Coffeecake
Bronze Member
I'm not sure if I'm even posting this in the right place but here it goes.
This is very scary for me but I feel like I have to be heard. My childhood was awesome, I had so much fun. My best friend was my brother, who I loved and adored dearly. I did everything with him, we played and swam and traveled he was the pb to my jelly. Anything he said I believed him, anything he asked I would do. He was an amazing person, funny, smart, talented, artistic, just amazing. When I became a teenager, things started to go downhill. My brother went to live with my family (far away) to get him away from these horrible new friends he had made, he left me. My parents divorced, I was alone. During this time my grandfather died and I watched as he passed. A few year later I was raped by two different people who I thought were my friends and I never told anyone but my best friend, I kept it a secret until my adulthood. I did once tell a coworker who then told me it was my fault for being out with boys when I was only 15 years old (Bi*ch). At the end of high school I dated a guy who mentally and physically abused me. I was very depressed. I tried to stop this cycle of curses. I focused on school, I dated people who were really great people (although until recently I never fully formed a strong relationship with them). I stayed close to people who I could trust and who cared and loved me. My brother who was gone through all of this had finally come home. Our relationship was estranged. It was sad, I loved him so much. We slowly started to rebuild our relationship. He met a girl, he got engaged, he was going to have a baby. Everything was starting to look like our relationship would grow strong and we would be a family again. Through all of the terrible things I went through alone, he my brother (who I always referred to as my protector) was back and things were starting to be normal again. My brother was in his rightful place, home. This did not last for some reason it was not meant to be, my brother was randomly murdered. Someone, a stranger who had nothing to do with anything stole him away from all of us just like that he was gone again after I just got him back. After he was just starting a family and his own life, GONE.
The way I found out about this was a shocking phone call from my father. I was at home alone and I got a call from him just screaming that my brother was dead. I told him no, he is not dead go back into the room and check that its him, I told him to go tell the Doctors to go back in there and fix it I begged him to make someone do something. And I collapsed on the kitchen floor and I wept and wept. I couldn't get up. My friend who was coming over just to hang out rang the buzzer and I let her in, when she saw my face she said what is wrong?! I could barely get out my brother was killed. I cried so much I remember my face was raw and my jaw muscles hurt. The next few days were surreal. I had to go to the funeral home to plan his wake, we tried to make everything the way he would want it. I was then asked to go ID his body and i didn't want to go but I did it for my parents. I had to go to the morgue and I still didn't believe he was gone, I couldn't. We were called into this dark room with a TV monitor on the wall. We sat down and it turned on and I saw him. And I said his name out loud. As if he could hear me. This is my worst flashback that I have. His face on that screen, being in that room. Having to leave him there alone. Finalizing that he actually was dead.
I was okay for about a year, I was obviously in denial. I went back to work a week after his death and I graduated from school two weeks after his death. I don't remember exactly how or what happened but I just broke, I had to leave work for four months and go to therapy. I would stay in bed some days all day long and cry. I would be cleaning some days and just fall to the floor sobbing. I had horrible nightmares, I didn't want to see anyone, I hid my feeling from everyone they all thought I was okay. It has been almost three years since all of this has happened and I have been making progress. I still have pretty bad anxiety, I still have a lot of anger and sorrow inside of me and I miss my brother terribly. Some days are better than others now, but I still have triggers.
It took me a very long time to write this, it is scary to share this with people that I don't know personally. I appreciate anyone who took the time to read this. And I didn't write it to make anyone feel bad for me or because I feel bad for myself. I just wrote it to share my story and to feel like I am heard and to feel that my brothers death was not in vain.
Thank you.
This is very scary for me but I feel like I have to be heard. My childhood was awesome, I had so much fun. My best friend was my brother, who I loved and adored dearly. I did everything with him, we played and swam and traveled he was the pb to my jelly. Anything he said I believed him, anything he asked I would do. He was an amazing person, funny, smart, talented, artistic, just amazing. When I became a teenager, things started to go downhill. My brother went to live with my family (far away) to get him away from these horrible new friends he had made, he left me. My parents divorced, I was alone. During this time my grandfather died and I watched as he passed. A few year later I was raped by two different people who I thought were my friends and I never told anyone but my best friend, I kept it a secret until my adulthood. I did once tell a coworker who then told me it was my fault for being out with boys when I was only 15 years old (Bi*ch). At the end of high school I dated a guy who mentally and physically abused me. I was very depressed. I tried to stop this cycle of curses. I focused on school, I dated people who were really great people (although until recently I never fully formed a strong relationship with them). I stayed close to people who I could trust and who cared and loved me. My brother who was gone through all of this had finally come home. Our relationship was estranged. It was sad, I loved him so much. We slowly started to rebuild our relationship. He met a girl, he got engaged, he was going to have a baby. Everything was starting to look like our relationship would grow strong and we would be a family again. Through all of the terrible things I went through alone, he my brother (who I always referred to as my protector) was back and things were starting to be normal again. My brother was in his rightful place, home. This did not last for some reason it was not meant to be, my brother was randomly murdered. Someone, a stranger who had nothing to do with anything stole him away from all of us just like that he was gone again after I just got him back. After he was just starting a family and his own life, GONE.
The way I found out about this was a shocking phone call from my father. I was at home alone and I got a call from him just screaming that my brother was dead. I told him no, he is not dead go back into the room and check that its him, I told him to go tell the Doctors to go back in there and fix it I begged him to make someone do something. And I collapsed on the kitchen floor and I wept and wept. I couldn't get up. My friend who was coming over just to hang out rang the buzzer and I let her in, when she saw my face she said what is wrong?! I could barely get out my brother was killed. I cried so much I remember my face was raw and my jaw muscles hurt. The next few days were surreal. I had to go to the funeral home to plan his wake, we tried to make everything the way he would want it. I was then asked to go ID his body and i didn't want to go but I did it for my parents. I had to go to the morgue and I still didn't believe he was gone, I couldn't. We were called into this dark room with a TV monitor on the wall. We sat down and it turned on and I saw him. And I said his name out loud. As if he could hear me. This is my worst flashback that I have. His face on that screen, being in that room. Having to leave him there alone. Finalizing that he actually was dead.
I was okay for about a year, I was obviously in denial. I went back to work a week after his death and I graduated from school two weeks after his death. I don't remember exactly how or what happened but I just broke, I had to leave work for four months and go to therapy. I would stay in bed some days all day long and cry. I would be cleaning some days and just fall to the floor sobbing. I had horrible nightmares, I didn't want to see anyone, I hid my feeling from everyone they all thought I was okay. It has been almost three years since all of this has happened and I have been making progress. I still have pretty bad anxiety, I still have a lot of anger and sorrow inside of me and I miss my brother terribly. Some days are better than others now, but I still have triggers.
It took me a very long time to write this, it is scary to share this with people that I don't know personally. I appreciate anyone who took the time to read this. And I didn't write it to make anyone feel bad for me or because I feel bad for myself. I just wrote it to share my story and to feel like I am heard and to feel that my brothers death was not in vain.
Thank you.
