unspoken

You know how on Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort is supposed to be referred to as he-who-can-not-be-named. Well, sometimes that is how I feel about a word that I hate.

I hate the word suicide.

It is a dirty word to me. It makes my mouth feel filthy when it comes out. I also hate that I hate that word. I hate that I have had to experience all that it entails.

I think that everyone in my family feels the same way as I do. It has never been discussed, just a quiet unspoken understanding between everyone.

It is hardly ever used. If it does get used, it evokes a solemnness to the room.

We, as a family, seem to unknowingly choose to express it in other words.

"what happened" "what Jason did" "what Jason chose" "how Jason passed away"

But, I think that it is completely okay that this is the way we choose to talk about it. I actually prefer it that way. We all have such a deep love for Jason and the man that he was. We do not want to tarnish his memory with that last act.

If, somehow in conversation, the subject of Jason and how he died comes up with people who are not close to me, I refuse to say he committed suicide. It is not that I am ashamed of it, it is because I do not want a stranger to judge my brother, a man they were never lucky enough to know.

I will never be ashamed of Jason. Not one of us knew what was going on in his head that day. Sometimes it makes me very angry to know that it will be a long time before I will have those questions answered. I will wait.

The word suicide will never roll off my tongue smooth again. It will forever feel jagged and rough.

I hate when I hear people joke about it or talk about it like it is nothing. I want to slap them. I want to tell them how serious and devastating it is. Please, don't joke about it. I take it very serious. If you are having thoughts of suicide, please tell someone who can help.

I hate the word suicide.

I love my brother Jason.