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Cheers

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IzzyB
September 21, 2009

The Other End of the Line

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When my brother and I were nearly grown, my parents suffered prematurely from empty nest syndrome and we adopted a sibling group from Colombia, South America. John, age 12, was the eldest of the three. We don't know what ugliness he endured in his young life. We know only that for as long as we had him, we loved him as hard as we could. It pains me to say it was not enough.

We learned the darkness of death when we were all too young. We were unprepared for the knock at our door, for the police officer standing there, for the bad news he had to bear. It was a knock we didn't want to answer, the knock that bore the news that my brother had taken his own life.

This layout is my thank you note to the Suicide Prevention Center that handled John's call on the night he died and to the legions of unthanked volunteers who work these phones.

September is National Suicide Prevention Month. Suicide is often spoken in hushed tones and hidden away like a stigma. Thank you for reading this and allowing me to shed a little light.

The journaling reads:

Dear Sir (or Madam),

I don't know if you are young or old, male or female, black or white. Your role is to be anonymous, a voice on the other end of the line, but I regret that I do not know your name. This seems such an impersonal way to thank you. Forgive my bad manners in addressing you so broadly.

We've never met and I never intend to call you, but my brother did. I want to thank you for taking his call. Thank you for listening. He may not have made much sense, but in my imagination, your voice was soft and warm. He was frantic. You were calm. He was angry. You spoke in love. It was late. You were patient.

My brother was a boy. Not long out of his teens. His ideas were childish. You were wise. His thoughts were jumbled. Yours were clear. He talked in circles. You were direct. He was exhausting. You were tireless. You never hung up. When he did, you called back. When he didn't answer, you called 911 and sent a police car to his house.

Yours was likely the last voice my brother ever heard. You may feel that you failed. But I do not. I want to thank you for being a voice of compassion to a soul who was lost. It gives me great comfort to know he had someone to talk to when he needed it most. My grief leaves me wounded and blind. You are light and balm and soothe me. You are important. Your work is good. I will always miss my brother, and I will always be grateful to you, the voice on the other end of the line.

Sincerely Yours,
John's Sister


layouts scrapbooking letter Journaling suicide Black Blue White 12 x 12 Clean & Simple Masculine Naturalist Challenges Bling Borders Chipboard Elements Creative Lettering Doodling Embellishments Gems Inking Matting Stamping Stitching Titles Family Inspira
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Cheer sent!

Thanks for spreading positivity!

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