Our thanks to Jed for sharing these words with OnTheWight readers and providing the photo of his late brother, Daniel Dwight. Ed
OK folks, September sees Suicide Day in the UK and Suicide Prevention Month in the US, when those that have lost a relative or friend to suicide share their experiences, in the hope that they may help to prevent others from taking that most desperate of routes, that is familiar to all of us, but rarely spoken about.
For my part, I would like to share the following. My own story of my experience. Heart-breaking yes, but I would hope powerful enough to put the message across.
The day
It should have been a day like any other, in fact, it should have been nicer than any other day, as it was my day off, and, by some miracle, the sun was shining.
However, this particular day, Wednesday 15th May 2013, would turn out to be anything but a normal day.
I woke up to my Mum panicking. Half awake, I asked her what was wrong, and she explained, as well as any panicking Mother could do, that she was concerned by something my older brother had posted on Facebook.
My Brother
Now before I go any further I feel I should tell you a little about my brother. He was, as I say, older than me at 29 years old. He was what any brother could wish for, reliable, genuine, caring, with the typical sign of brotherly affection via a little rough and tumble every now and then; and although he differed to me in his interests – he certainly wasn’t a keen Tory supporter – he never failed to encourage me to follow my aspirations. And I respected him greatly, for he was one of the hardest working people I knew, and taught me if nothing else that if you work hard, you do well in life – which I thought was a Tory ideal!
Unfortunately he had recently gone through a marriage breakdown, but of late, with a fantastic new girlfriend by his side, seemed so much happier, back to his former self. Everyone that knew Daniel instantly grew a fondness for him, and with good reason.
“I’m sorry”
And so, to continue to recall the events of that day:
Managing to speak a little more clearly to my Mum, I went with her to my laptop and read the comment on Facebook “I’m sorry” , with the location ‘At the Needles’.
A chill ran down my spine. Until very recently I used to live on the Isle of Wight you see, and the Needles, one of the Island’s most recognisable features, are both beautiful and treacherous at the same time.
The search began
My first instinct was to ring Daniel’s phone, but there was no reply. And so we got into the car and drove to his home, whilst my older sister drove to the Needles, where the Police were also headed.
There was no sign of Daniel at his home, and soon it became clear that he hadn’t gone to work, which as you can probably gather was nothing, if not out of character.
My Father, and Brother-in-law, both lorry drivers, were each off the Island at this point, as news of what we couldn’t bear to believe began to trickle through.
Myself and my Mum made our way home, where we were met by Police, who followed us inside.
The news
I am far from good with these things, and so carried on watching a film, whilst the Police prepared my Mum for what could be.
Then I remembered, I had some paperwork to sort out, and so sat in my room sorting bits and pieces. Not long afterwards I was called through to our lounge, where myself and my Mum were sat down and informed that, tragically, they had found a body, and were pretty sure it was going to be my Brother’s.
That moment will live with me forever. I simply couldn’t believe it. But I needed to be strong for my Mum, and so I was. After all, it is always said that nothing is worse than losing a child, and at times like this you realise just how true that statement is.
At this point we’d decided it would be best to all be together, and so we drove to my Sister’s home. By this time the news had reached my Dad and Brother in-law, who were on their way home, and my younger Sister, who was returning from work, as well as my Aunties, Uncles and Cousins, all of whom came to visit. Of course it was unbearable, particularly as my Dad came in, who was truly heartbroken, made all the worse by the fact that he was away when news first broke out.
Fond memories
However, as the afternoon became evening we remembered our good times with Daniel, and our grief turned to remembrance.
We returned home, where dinner had been left for us by friends. So many friends were good to us on that day, and the days that followed, that I can’t begin to explain how grateful we were.
The next day I went into work like normal, unsure of whether they would have heard; of course they had done, and said that I shouldn’t have come in, but I explained that sitting at home would have done me no good, thinking on it over and over again. I felt then, and still feel to this day, that I needed to be doing something, needed to be distracted.
The day we said goodbye
A couple of weeks past, and along came the day of the funeral. Whilst organising Daniel’s last goodbye, we had agreed that I would be the only one able to give any kind of speech, which I wrote on the day, albeit I asked that my older Sister stand with me.
Reading it out in a church, filled both inside, and outside, I should have felt nervous and sadness, but instead I felt confidence and pride. Knowing Daniel was looking down on me gave me the strength to stand up, be strong, and tell people of the good times that Daniel had brought into all of our lives, before adding a little humour and asking him to say hello to former Tory PM Margaret Thatcher for me, who had passed away not long before.
The impact of suicide
Ever since that day, I have thought of Daniel. Suicide is tragic and nothing can prepare those that have their lives rocked by it.
Daniel was a strong, healthy young man with years ahead of him. It seems such a shame to think that he felt that he had nothing to live for in the world in which we all live today, and I for one can promise you that the World that I grow old in, I will learn to be fairer, more caring, with a greater willingness to understand others whilst ensuring that support is always available at the point of requirement.
Need help?
Find out more about suicide prevention via the National Alliance on Mental Illness Website.
If you are in a situation where you feel desperate and need someone to talk to, please call The Samaritans free of charge on 116 123.
Just having someone to talk to that isn’t family or friends can be a tremendous help. You don’t have to be suicidal to get in touch. Their service can help people before it’s too late.
For a less immediate response, you can contact them via email on [email protected]
