Hurdling Depression: Zane's story

He will be 29 on Monday. I never know if I should say will or would. It’s been almost seven years since the last time I heard his voice and saw his flashy, dark blue eyes that resembled mine. His name is Zane or should I say it was his name.

I’m 14 without a care in world except for the big race the next day. It’s the sectional meet tomorrow. I’ll be racing the 4X100m and 100m hurdles, my specialties. My team is set to win.

That night, I folded up my uniform and placed it into my duffle bag beside my lucky underwear and racing spikes. I was nervous already and couldn’t get the image of myself tripping over a hurdle out of my head. I tossed and turned for hours, not knowing what was on his mind. Not knowing that he had come to a hurdle that he was unable to conquer.

Zane was the wild child of my family. He was a daredevil, a clown, and my big brother. He went through some dark periods in his life, but we never knew about all the demons he hid.

As I lay awake that night before my race, Zane was making a decision, one that would change the course of his life forever. I wish he had lost his keys. I wish someone had given him a call and calmed his fears. I wish I were there to tell him to stop.

I woke up, still jittery thinking about my race. My dad’s ragged voice called for me to come down stairs. There was something wrong. Puffy eyes and hands filled with damp tissues greeted me at the bottom of the stairs.

“Zane took his life last night.” My uncle tried to catch my hand before I raced upstairs, but I couldn’t feel a thing. I needed to go back to sleep so I could wake up from this nightmare.

 

I never raced at sectionals that day. My team lost by 2 points and I faced the highest and most terrifying hurdle of my life at 14.

It was real. My big brother committed suicide. I never thought this would ever happen to my family. I went through all the stages of grief: denial, sadness and even anger, but the hardest for me was being able to talk about his death. I was almost ashamed to tell people that he died from suicide.

I was angry with Zane because he took his own life, while others got their life taken away by cancer, heart attacks, and murders. How could you take your life while others fight so hard to keep theirs? It’s been almost seven years since his death and I have come to terms with the fact that Zane was depressed.

Depression is a disease, like any other disease, without help and possible medication, it can be life threatening. Zane never received help. My family didn’t see that he needed help, no one could have seen it. I miss him and every year around this time I picture what he might look like at his new age. Zane is my big brother and on March 11, he will be 29.

For more information on suicide prevention please take a moment to look at the websites below:

http://www.afsp.org/ - American Foundation of Suicide Prevention
http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/ -Suicide AwarenessVoices of Education