Written By My Mother for My Brother

My Son's Eulogy by Patricia A Guagenti- Auvil

My son hated to see me cry. Whenever I did, he would say please mommy don't cry, I'm sorry, It's okay. Even if he didn't do anything wrong.
He was the most amazing boy, but he could never see it. If I had been in Iraq with him, I would have wanted to be his best friend. If I was a girl in high school with him, I would have been crazy in love with him. He felt undeserving and unworthy. He felt he was ordinary. Well, my love you were anything but ordinary.
In that one moment, that one brief moment, he couldn't find the light anymore. He just couldn't make it through one more day. I can't be angry at him for doing what he did. I'm grateful for the time he gave me, his father, his sister, his brother and all of his family. I'm grateful today that my son isn't tormented by his mind and the pain in his heart. So I ask you not to be angry and know that today he is at peace.
So whether it's a month from now or a year. Whenever you smell patchouli, hear a Sublime song, or see a really good looking guy in a hat, think of my boy and smile.
Well my love, my amazing, amazing boy, I put my big girl panties on and kept my shit together. I hope you're proud of me, because I sure as shit was proud of you.

For My Brother

It's been a long time since I blogged.  The last time I blogged was February 24.  Who knew in just 32 days my brother would commit suicide.  My life has been even more turned upside.  My sibling, my blood, my brother, my friend, my hero, took his own life.  People joke about suicide all the time.  They think it's harmless and it usually is, but I don't find it comical or amusing any more.  I miss my brother so much.  All the time and it hurts.  Loss by suicide has to be the hardest loss there is.  They killed themselves.  They ended their life.  It leaves you feeling like you failed, like you didn't do a good enough job in the role you played in their life.  Watching my parents now, it just about kills me.  They love him so much and I can't be sure he truly knew the depth of their love.  But he was in pain.  People do not understand just how much pain he was in.  Truthfully, I don't fully know the depth of his pain.  I just know, he is not in pain any longer.  And for that, I am so grateful.  I could never ask him or anyone else I love to remain on this Earth with the amount of pain and burden they carry.

I can't sit here and pretend I knew my brother inside and out.  We were close, but only until we were about 16 years old.  We are only 13 months apart so when we hit high school, we started really becoming our own people.  Our closeness weakened because of different friends, different interests, after school jobs, etc.  But we always came back at the end of the day to be a family, to be brother and sister.  I remember so much about my brother now more than I ever did over the last 5 years.  I know how much he loved Bob & Ziggy Marley.  How much he loved hippy apparel and the free spirit life style.  He loved the word "fuck" and actually had "fuck yeah" tattooed on his fingers.  That is until my mother had him tattoo over it so he could be appropriate for the work place. He and I shared a love for Blink 182, Linkin Park, and Green Day.  'Boulevard of Broken Dreams" by Green Day reminds me of him so much, because I feel all the dreams he had were broken by his PTSD.  "Adam's Song" by Blink 182 is a song about suicide and we knew it then, and the connection now between him and that song is truly unreal.  It's the oddest connection.  It has come on the radio a few times and honestly, I hadn't heard it in a very long time until after he passed.  Maybe 2 years? I remember that we used to play together often.  My brothers with their Legos and me with my Barbies.  I remember going to a bon fire with some of his lacrosse friends one night and we both just got so drunk. It was so funny because we hadn't done that together ever.  I remember watching him play lacrosse, and he just kicked butt.  He was so tough and talented.  I wanted a scholarship for him so bad so he could play lacrosse.  It was such a good outlet for him.  All this and more, I remember. I remember him everyday.
The day he was found, March 23, was a day I do want to forget.  I was at work, and Randy called me and told me he had Braedy.  My parents were supposed to have him.  They were taking him to see "The Croods" and he was going to spend the night.  Randy and I were going to go on a date once I got off work.  It was about 4pm when he called and told me this.  My parents had had an emergency and Randy was outside washing his car, he didn't answer his phone, so they dropped Braedy off at the Colgan's house.  Randy finally had saw they called and called back.  He immediately went to pick up Braedy and he called me.  I remember telling Randy how odd it was that they just dropped him off in the manner they did.  I knew in my heart almost immediately, any emergency they were seeing to, had to involve my brother.  I still find it really weird that I knew in my heart and soul, that something was terribly wrong.  I tried to go back to working, but at about 5pm, I called Randy and told him I wanted to come home.  I said, something bad happened.  I just know it.  Randy told me not to think that way and just keep working.  Braedy, him, and I could go to dinner when I was done working.  I hung up and went back to work.  At about 5:30pm, Randy called me again and told me my parents were at the house and they wanted me to come home now.  I said of course and called my coworkers and boss and told them I had to drop everything and I go.  I remember uttering something about my brother and maybe he had tried to hurt himself.  I just had this feeling.  Like he was here with me already trying to prepare me, or in reality, I just knew he couldn't hang on any longer.
I raced home.  I pulled up and my dad was outside.  He followed me inside the house and didn't really say anything other than hi.  My mother was pacing around the living room and she had been crying.  I said hi to her and noticed Randy's eyes were red.   My mother took my hands and stood in front of me and told me my brother shot himself in the head and he was dead.  I screamed no about a hundred times and collapsed on my mother who began to cry uncontrollably as well.  We even started to ramble on about little things about the funeral and about the days ahead.  I could NOT believe we were talking about this.  I still can't believe that day happened.  I found out later that he actually had killed himself on March 22, but was not found until March 23.  This made me sick.  He had been lying there all alone.  Without anyone.  His roommate and my ex-boyfriend are the ones who found him.  It breaks my heart it had to be them.  That it had to be anyone.  His roommate Tyler was also one of his best friends and I pray for him daily.  What he saw, what he had to endure.  It breaks my heart he had to see his friend in that condition.
So much happened that first week after.  Aunts, uncles, grandparents, friends, cousins, siblings, and more all poured in from everywhere.  There was over 300 people at his funeral.  That boy was so loved.  I remember one of those nights, the night I made his remembrance video, I stayed up all night.  I never went to bed.  I didn't sleep for about 40 hours those two days.  I couldn't.  I kept crying.  It was an endless stream of tears. We had to meet with one of the military officers regarding his financials and what not, seeing the "deceased" wording on those documents, the sensation that came over me, I can't explain it.  I was so disgusted by it.  I felt like THEY were saying my brother was dead.  I felt it was their decision or their fault or something.  Everything seems so foggy now, but little bits and pieces stick out. I remember one of the days going to the house to see my mom, and she had already blown up one of his pictures.  Then I saw the announcement on the funeral's home site.  I had about 46 unanswered Facebook messages for a few days.  I knew what I was going to read and I couldn't stomach it.  The night I was making the video, I couldn't even move or speak.  I remember sitting on my couch at home for an hour, frozen.  When I got up, I got my keys and drove straight to my parents house.  All my uncles and aunts were up and were drinking.  I had a drink and we were all sharing stories and laughing.  I didn't feel as we should be laughing.  But my brother would be.  He always felt uncomfortable around sadness or death.  His humor was one of the best things, always laughing about inappropriate situations.  I admired that so much and miss it now.
The week of his death seems so blurry now, and the months since, I feel more broken, less alive.  I should be living because I can, but it just doesn't seem fair.  Why am I still here, but he isn't?  I will always miss him and I will always wonder the "whys".  I know they won't ever get answered, and they won't matter by the time I see him again either.  But if I could have helped, if I could have done something.  Would it have mattered? Would it have helped?  Would he have let me help?  As his big sister, I feel a lot of guilt.  The oldest sibling's job seems to protect the younger ones.  I feel I failed and I can't turn back the clock.  I miss him, everyday, all day. This post may seem like a slur of thoughts but it has helped to get this all down and out of my brain.  It's hard and it gets harder all the time.  I love you CJ.  SO much.