Trigger warning: as mentioned in the title, this post will talk about suicide.
Many people who know me today would not know that I had a brother or that he passed away in 2010 – if I’m honest, it never comes up in conversation.
As I sit here and write that, I’m filled with deep sadness because he was a big part of my younger life, and the years we spent together were essential in shaping who I am today.
His name was Ross Evans, and I’m sharing a part of you with him today.
Let me take you way back.
Some of you may be confused because I called him my brother. While I only have one biological sister, over the years, I’ve been blessed to gain more (step) siblings along the way. Ross was the first.
Ross and I were complete opposites. Where I was loud, he was quiet. Where I loved to be the center of attention, he preferred the comfort of his room and video games. Oh, and I can’t forget that there was a pretty wide age gap between us – unfortunately, I don’t remember exactly how many years, but I’m pretty sure it was more than 8.
Until that point in my life, it was just my sister and me, but being the tomboy I was, I had always hoped to have a big brother. That hope became a reality when my dad remarried.
Because of our age gap, I can only imagine that Ross found me to be an annoying little redhead – which is exactly what I was to everyone when I was younger (you can admit it, mom). What amazes me is that I can’t remember a time when he got super frustrated or annoyed with me.
While I’m sure he wanted to yell at me to get out of his room plenty of times (I would constantly go in there to ask him what he was doing and if he wanted to come out and eat dinner with us), he didn’t.
My favorite memory of him was when he was supposed to be watching me while my dad and stepmom were out of town. And like a typical young man, he decided to throw a house party and invited all of his friends. I was told not to come out of my room, but being the little daredevil I was, I didn’t listen.
Rather than make me go back into my room, he pulled me on his lap and let me join in on the poker game happening at the kitchen table. Instead of poker chips, I was allowed to deal in with animal crackers, and I thought it was the best thing in the world.
It’s crazy because as I recall this memory, I can’t see it very clearly – I can only remember the details I’ve told myself and others over and over again through the years.
I guess that’s a lot of memories we made together – still somewhat there, but getting blurrier by the year.
There is one moment that will never be blurred over, though. It was a moment that happened two weeks before we got the news of what happened.
Eventually, Ross decided to move away to Boston. While I was happy for him to go and live with friends, I was sad that he was leaving. Thankfully he chose to fly home to celebrate Christmas with us early.
The image is clear. We’re all sitting in the living room, and Ross is sitting in my stepmother’s recliner. I don’t remember exactly what we were laughing about, but I know that we laughed a lot that night. He seemed so happy to me – I would never have guessed there was something going on beneath the surface. But there was.
Fast forward to a couple of weeks later, on December 28th, 2011, my sister and I were staying with my mom when she received a call from my dad that night. The call told us my brother had been found and was no longer with us.
No, it couldn’t be. There must be some mistake. I had just seen him two weeks earlier, and everything seemed fine!
I remember my thoughts spiraling out of control, and I couldn’t contain my emotions. I truly couldn’t believe that he was gone.
Life looked different after that phone call.
My stepmother lost her only son. A father lost their son. Grandparents lost their grandchild. My sister and I lost our only brother.
It hurt. It still hurts.
If I could go back and tell him anything, I would tell him how much he mattered to me. I would tell him that he was the bestest big brother, even if he did hate having dinner with me because I chewed with my mouth open.
I would tell him how loved he was. How valued he was.
And even if I could go back, that wouldn’t guarantee that anything would’ve transpired differently.
Right now, there are people hurting all over the world.
Moms. Dads. Sons. Daughters. Sisters. Brothers. Friends.
People who bring so much goodness to this world and are loved immensely believe that their loved ones would be better off without them – it’s the biggest lie of the enemy.
If you or someone you know is struggling, please get help. Don’t wait another second. Don’t wait another day. Don’t wait another week. Don’t wait another month. Don’t wait.
Waiting only can deepen the wound, not heal it.
What I want to leave you with is this reminder: there is a God who made you that loves you so dearly and holds you so close to his heart that he knows the very number of hairs on your head. He knew you before you were formed in your mother’s womb and knit you together with every piece of intentionality He could ever muster up.
You are not a mistake. You matter beyond belief.
And there are people who want to help you. Please let them.
*If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts, PLEASE get help. Call the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 988. I promise your life is worth it.*
I love you and miss you Ross 🤍
