“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…I wish I was strong for you guys…I wish I could be happy for you… Please don’t hate me”
I opened one of my eyes to look at the alarm clock on my side table, it was three o’ clock in the morning and I still couldn’t get myself to go to bed…this rubbish had to stop.
I pulled myself out of bed to and decided to go get some water from the kitchen. I looked into Wande’s room, she was sleeping so peacefully…lucky girl. Just as I took two steps away from her room, I realized I had noticed something unusual in her room. There were red stains all over her bed. Maybe she had gotten her period without knowing. But how did period blood get to her pillow?
Wait…
I walked back into her room. Very slowly…I wasn’t ready for my suspicions to be right.
I got to her bed and I saw it…my brain couldn’t quite register what was happening at first. I just stood there for five seconds before my mouth remembered to scream.
I tried to raise her up from the bed, to stop the blood with everything I could find…anything I could find but it was too late. Her body was cold already. My beautiful sister…my sister’s eyes were lifeless. Wande was dead. My baby sister had killed herself.
It seemed like forever before anyone came to the room. It was my brother. He saw the scene and rushed to get his car keys. He picked her up and took her to the hospital. I couldn’t go with him, I couldn’t stand up. I knew it was too late already. I couldn’t bear hearing it from a doctor.
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My mind was racing.
I decided to clean up the room, I couldn’t let our mum see this. Our mum! Oh my God…this was going to kill her. I had about two more hours to clean up the room before she came back from vigil. My hands were shaking, my head was racing, and tears were running down my eyes like they were in an Olympics race.
Wande had killed herself…my baby sister slit her wrists. Her face kept flashing through my mind. Her beautiful smile, her big bright eyes, her tiny nose…
I screamed again…
I gathered myself together again and went back to cleaning the room. Just as I was packing up her sheets to put in the washing machine, a piece of paper fell to the floor.
It was her suicide note.
“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…I wish I was strong for you guys…I wish I could be happy for you…
Please don’t hate me”
I screamed again…
Why? Why? I had so many questions but my mind kept circling back to Why?
I finished up with her room and just sat at the door and cried. My brother called me. I knew what he was about to say but I couldn’t help having a little bit of hope. Maybe the doctors had been able to resuscitate her. Maybe she was okay.
My hope was useless…all my brother said was, “she’s gone…she’s…” he couldn’t even finish the sentence before he burst into tears.
I screamed again…
This time, my mum was walking into the house and she heard me. She ran upstairs and found me in front of Wande’s room. At first she thought there was something wrong with me. She was about to go into Wande’s room to yell at her for not coming to help her big sister.
But I was the one who deserved to be yelled at…I was the one who hadn’t helped her little sister. Now she was gone.
My mum went into Wande’s room looked round and came back outside. “Dope where is Wande?” she asked.
I screamed again…
My mum sat beside me on the floor…”Dope, where’s my baby?’
I looked down at my mom’s hands; she was holding the suicide note. Before I could say anything, she fainted…
It’s been ten years now since my baby sister took her life. Our family was never the same again from that day.
My mum couldn’t handle the heartbreak. She died a couple of months after leaving my brother and I alone in this world.
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I wanted to blame Wande for everything. I wanted to hate her for being so selfish. I wanted to blame her for my mum’s death. I wanted to see her one more time and just yell at her. But how do you blame a dead person? So I blamed myself instead. I could have paid more attention to her. I could have checked up on her more often. Sometimes I look down at my hands and I can still see her lifeless body in my arms. I can still feel her blood trickle down my thighs.
I needed to write this…
I need people to know that suicide isn’t the answer. It’s not ABOUT YOU. When you die, you’re dead, void of emotions and guilt. It’s the people you leave behind that suffer, they’re the ones that deal with the pain, the hurt, the guilt. Suicide is not brave, it’s selfish. If you want to be brave, seek help. Talk to someone…talk to anyone. Don’t hole yourself up and revel in your depression. Do something about it. Please…
Also, people need to check up on their loved ones more often. I can’t stop thinking about the fact that Wande came to my room that night. She told me she wanted to sleep in my room but I told her to go away because she wasn’t a baby anymore and I needed to wake up early the next day for work.
People tell me to stop blaming myself but things would certainly have been different if I had let her sleep in my bed that day. Maybe Wande would still be alive…maybe my mum would still be alive too…maybe I wouldn’t need to be writing this depressing article.
All these “maybes” aren’t bringing anyone back though…
Written by Kofo Oyegunle.