Last month, someone close to me lost his brother, 52 years old, to suicide. As I've watched and listened to his shock and grief, worse because of how the news got to him, I wonder how our culture will ever get past the fears, shame, and secrecy that make mental disorders so much worse than they have to be.
Word of his brother's death came by phone 24 hrs after it occured. But instead of the truth -- that his brother sat down in front of a train -- my friend was first told by the family member who called that a car struck and killed his brother while he rode a bicycle at night. Since my friend was well aware that his brother had suffered from bipolar disorder for over 20 years, he immediately suspected another cause of death. Unfortunately, when questioned, his parent and at least one sibling offered again the bicycle accident ruse, dragging out my friend's agonizing process of discovering what really happened for another full day. In the end, he was forced to call the county coroner. When the coroner reported that there was no bike involved in his brother's death, and went on to locate the place of death on a railroad track, there was no longer any question about the cause. When confronted with this information, his family finally acknowledged the suicide.
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