Ken

- By Victoria Bowman

My brother, Ken, had turned 28, the month before his death. I was just shy of 14. He was my only brother, whom I loved. I knew he loved and cared about me, too. His death was such a trauma, that it has taken me years to come to accept it.

It was a Friday night, November 18th. I was going to babysit that night. We sat and watched a sci fi show together before I left. I was being a snotty adolescent sister, not wanting to share my snacks with him. If I could go back, I would give him all that I had to relive that last night. If I could but change what happened. He later told our Mom he was going to take some candy to Marilyn, his [estranged] girlfriend. Was he carrying the casings for his shot-gun in that bag? He did seek out Marilyn. I am not sure of the details. I do know he entered a night club where she was. He shot her inside the club. He went outside and shot himself. Only the two of them know the dynamics of what preceded the end. Time has not lessened the pain that I stuffed. Now that I am feeling the pain, I trust I will be able to heal and begin to live life, instead of lamenting his death. I pray to have my life be a living memorial to him. He was so much more than the desperate act of a depressed man. He was a son, a brother, a friend, an amazingly gifted man, who knew nothing of his gifts and talents...an artist, a poet, an athlete, compassionate, sensitive, caring, and yet troubled spiritually and emotionally. Our father never recovered from his death. Our Mother never shared her pain, but spoke in facts. My oldest sister continues to drown her grief in alcohol. The middle sister refuses to share about that...she gives others the illusion of looking good on the outside...like somehow she is not touched by anything not pretty. I am estranged from both my sisters today. I truly miss my brother all the more, as I feel he was the only sibling who really loved me.

At the time of his death, it was like we were going on auto-pilot. No one gave us a script on how to deal with a murder-suicide in the family. I think I slipped into a form of attention deficiet. Perhaps it was post traumatic stress...what ever it was, I did not engage myself into being life affirming with goal setting and follow-through. I did not prepare for a future. I feel like I just floated on a sea of uncertainty. No one to talk to, no one to trust, we each suffered in silent isolation. Experimenting with the drug using kids was easy. I had no fear of hurting myself. I engaged in high-risk behaviors. In my 20's I also atempted suicide by an over-dose.

My healing has been a long and winding path. Coming to believe in a merciful, loving God has brought me here today. I know that God embraced my brother and brought him home, rather than condemn him for an eternal hell. My brother was ill. A healthy person would not take their life and the life of a loved one. God knew his hurting heart better than anyone of us left could ever comprehend. I forgive my brother for abandoning me. I forgive myself for not being as kind as I could have been. I still mourn my brother today. The holidays always bring up the contrast of his absence. Today my husband put a screen saver on my pc...it is a panda bear. I cried when I saw it. As, I had shared with my husband that Ken had gotten me a panda bear when I was 5 yrs old. In time I hope to walk through my pain, and be able to celebrate my brother's life...by listening to the jazz of Ahmad Jamal, by skiing Aspen, by travelling back to Mt Vernon, which he shared with me so enthusiastically, by creating my own art and my own poetry, by donating my time and energy to destigmatize emotional illness, to prevent suicide by doing public service awareness work. If I could help one other person, in memory of my brother, Ken, then both of our lives have meaning.

Death is a given. I pray to learn to live better by acceptance of this fact. May I live a meaningful life, one in which I memorialize my brother, Ken.