I've been staring at this space to type out my post for a good 3-4 hours. I'm not sure what to write... or how to write it, I just know that I feel I have to say something to fill the silence... and maybe to help understand it.
Also, I'd like to post something to say he was here... something that will mark a space for him... something that will tell a part of his story - the worst part - so that maybe others don't have to go there and can get help. Or maybe so that people can see the reality of it.
I don't know.
For now I'll start with copying an email I sent to a friend earlier today to explain the situation because I'm having a hard time coming up with new words.
My cousin died yesterday. He was 35. I found out last night when I got home. My sister called me to let me know. The details are a bit jumbled as we're getting the info as it comes in from my aunts.
It was a bit brutal... I haven't read more of the news coverage on it... I'm afraid to as they don’t have all the details and they’re still investigating it. I do know that it was a suicide attempt... and then he was shot. Apparently he had a knife and my aunt was trying to stop him... he locked himself in his room so she called the police to help... they got there and went to his room, he opened the door and attacked them, so they shot him... They say that he had already sliced his throat, though... and I don't understand it... and yes, I'm at work because I thought it was better to try to keep myself occupied. The grief/knowledge comes in waves.
My mom said that he had had a bad week and had just wanted the voices to stop. He had been diagnosed with schizophrenia about... 10 -15 years ago, I think.
My guess is that he knew what he was doing when he went for the officers, especially considering that, if they went in to find him with his throat slit but still savable, they'd likely try to stop him. So why not attack, knowing full well they'd have to shoot him? I feel badly for the officer and I hope people don't blame him.
I can't help but think, though... and I hate to say it 'cause it does sound so cliche... but he's better off, maybe? In a better place... even if that's no place? He was just this broken boy... who had to live with his parents because he was mentally ill... like... badly...
I can talk about it… I mean… let’s not ignore the elephant in the room. Still, I can’t fully explain it without breaking down sometimes.
Living with my own mental illness is tough at times and I can't imagine how tough it was for my cousin. Apparently it was unbearable... and I can see that, can see why he did it. Maybe people will think that this is horrible to say, but I can see the why of it. It's sad and disturbing that it happens, and maybe if he had the right meds/help/diagnosis (if in fact he didn't), he'd have been better whilst alive. Then again, maybe not.
I'll reach out to friends if I need help, but mainly I'm going to remain quiet for a while. I may or may not post here to help write things out, but mostly... I've little to no words right now.