I never thought much about suicide until it changed my life.
October 5, 2014 was a Sunday. I was a junior in high school and had locked myself in my room to finish a tedious homework assignment. I wish I had put my computer down for just one minute to leave my room. That was the day that my twin brother, Clark, lost his life to suicide. Afterward, I couldn’t help thinking that maybe if I had talked to him more that day, it might have changed his mind.
My overriding thought after his death was: “How can I live my life without my twin?”
In the days and months after his loss, the world seemed to spin around me. It felt like everyone else was able to move on except for me. I was stuck on October 5th.
Before that day, I hadn’t thought much about suicide. Like most teenagers, I was consumed with thinking about school and my social life. I knew about depression and how it felt, but I didn’t understand the reality of suicide.
The pain of losing my twin felt Earth-shattering. I had lost my dad when I was ten, but this pain was different. It felt like a part of me was no longer there. My future children would no longer have an uncle. I would no longer have a built-in best friend. He and I wouldn’t be sitting next to each other at my future high school graduation. So many aspects of the life I knew were suddenly stripped away.
I remember feeling shame, guilt, and confusion.
Shame: “I’m embarrassed that my brother died this way.”
Guilt: “Why didn’t I know something was wrong?”
Confusion: “How could he leave me?”
I still ask myself these questions sometimes. I remember being scared of people finding out what happened, because I worried they would view my brother as weak – even though he was the strongest person I knew. I realize now that the shame I felt came from societal stigma involving mental health and suicide.
I also felt guilty that I didn’t know the extent of the pain my twin was feeling. Over time, I have coped with this guilt, and have learned that it’s a normal part of grief. I still feel confused at times. I don’t know if I will ever completely understand why he left me.
Shortly after losing Clark, I heard an ad on the radio for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention’s Overnight Walk, an annual event where people walk through the night, raising awareness and funds for suicide prevention, and honoring those they’ve lost, as well as those with lived experience. I knew immediately that I was meant to walk in honor of my brother. I created a team called “The Guitar Heroes'' in memory of my twin brother, who had an incredible talent and love for playing the guitar.
My team attended the Dallas Overnight Walk in 2015 when the loss of my brother was still fresh. When I arrived at The Overnight, I was shocked by how many other people had been directly affected by suicide. Overnight participants walk 16+ miles from dusk to dawn, and the symbolism of “walking out of the darkness” was so emotionally healing for me. I felt a sense of comfort, and the shame I’d experienced started to ease. For the first time, I felt I was truly not alone.
Since my first Overnight, I have fought tirelessly to change people’s perspectives on suicide and mental illness. Something inside of me decided I was a fighter and that it was my job to live – not only for myself but for my twin brother. I have led The Guitar Heroes in several of AFSP’s Community Walks and the Dallas Overnight Walk in 2018.
This year, after four years of not walking in an Overnight Walk, I was thrilled to travel to New York City in June 2022 for my third Overnight. The event always evokes different emotions. This year, I allowed myself to cry a few times. I cried for my brother, who should still be here today. I cried for all the people who were feeling the absence of their loved one(s) just like I was, and I cried because suicide is so utterly devastating. This year was also the first time I talked to strangers at The Overnight. Some conversations were casual, while some dived into the reasons why we were walking. I met people who had also lost a sibling; I met people who inspired me; and I was embraced by a community of people who understand the unique loss of suicide.
I was reminded of my brother with each step. I was reminded of the good times we shared and the typical sibling fights that we engaged in; but mostly I thought about who he would be today. This thought made me sad, but it also gave me the strength to keep going in both life and The Overnight.
The Overnight brings hope to survivors like myself and inspires me to keep living. I walk for my twin brother and for people who may not have the courage to speak up about mental health. I walk to keep my brother’s name alive: CLARK STEVENS. I walk to not forget the pain that he felt. I walk to raise awareness and save lives.
Losing someone to suicide can often lead to a unique sense of pain that can be hard to understand for people who have not experienced that same kind of loss themselves. Without my twin, I did not know who I was without my other half on this Earth. Since those early days, and finding The Overnight community, I have found purpose, as well as comfort. In those moments when I am still overwhelmed with grief, I have found things that help me: I write, go on walks, or listen to music to cope. I have found comfort in using my voice to help other people and spread awareness about suicide prevention.
If you are going through the loss of a sibling to suicide, please know that you are not alone.
Learn more about the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention’s Out of the Darkness Walks.