Trigger warning. Mentions of suicide/self harm and depression. 

Lilies - The beauty of youth 

Jeremy

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Please accept my condolences."

"He was such a good boy."

The looks of pity and sympathy that were thrown at me made me sick to my stomach. Jean was gone. My little brother committed suicide. He wasn't coming back. 

We can't play football together. We can't watch tv together. I can't look at him anymore. He's gone and it hurts so much.

The night before he did it, he asked me to buy him a pizza. I agreed. When I got home, I noticed his shoes. So I knew he was home.

I walked up the stairs calling his name. He didn't reply. I opened his bedroom door and the room was empty. I heard the water running so I headed to the bathroom. I called out to him and he didn't reply. I knocked a few times wanting to give him his privacy. When he didn't reply I got worried.

After a while, a wet sensation hit my toes. I looked down and saw water pouring from under the door.

I broke down the door, only to see Jean's lifeless body floating in the tub. He had overdosed on my anti-depressants and slit his wrists.

I thought about that moment once every day. My mother's screams were louder than the ambulance. My father clutched his dead cold body, calling his name as tears streamed down his eyes. I stood there in total denial and shock.

My brother was the sweetest person, I had ever met. He was beautiful inside and out. His light always shined so brightly and it hurts to know that he dimmed it. 

Jean wore "girl's clothes". His school didn't have a uniform like mine, so he was allowed to dress up in whatever he wanted and he opted for skirts and dresses and sometimes pants. My parents were very nervous about letting him dress like that because they were afraid of what people might think, but they realized that they loved their child more than they loved people's opinions. 

I still wonder if they just forced him to conform. Would things have been different?

One time, Jean told me about bullies. I went to his school, without his permission and threatened his entire class. I felt useful back then. He always seemed happy when mum took him shopping. He'd always show me his new clothes. I remember not knowing the difference between a sundress and a maxi dress. He gave me a long lecture on different clothing pieces. I always thought that a dress was a dress, but I've always been a clueless person.

There were times when my depression would hit me and I couldn't get out of bed. He'd come and cuddle me. I always felt guilty. I was the older brother. I had to protect and take care of me, but most of the time, he took care of me.

Maybe if I did my job better, he'd be here?

Maybe if I was a better brother he'd talk to me?

To this day, we don't know why he did it and it still haunts us.

The funeral was a difficult moment for us. Mum dressed him in a white suit and he held orchids, his favorite flower. She had asked me to do the eulogy and I couldn't get it done, without bawling, so my father took over. When his casket dropped into the dirt, I remember running away so fast and puking on the road. My father quickly appeared by my side and took my hand. I probably made him nervous because he might think that I was suicidal too.

"Jeremy, I love you. I love you so much. I can't lose you too, okay."

His words hurt me more than they should've.

After the funeral, I distanced myself from my friends. My best friend Jason tried to constantly reach out to me and I ignored him at every chance I could. Many students would whisper things when they saw Jean. They'd try to make fun of me because of him and now they wanted to offer me sympathy.

I got so angry. I constantly got into fights and I stopped caring about school. I was surprised when I was promoted to the exam class.

My family and I just didn't know how to handle it. We all felt like it was our fault. Instead of coming together we stayed far away from each other.

My mother stopped going to work and she had lost so much weight. My dad did go to work, he spent all his time work. When I woke up, he was already gone and when I got home, he was still out. Things got so out of hand that my parents finally decided to get grief counseling. It helped us to an extent. Eight months later and we're finally coping.

                                              🍃

A tissue was pushed into my hand. I looked confusedly at Donovan behind my blurred vision.

"Your eyes."

I touched my face and realized that I was crying. I wiped my eyes with the tissue. 

"It's allergies. Thank you." I tried laughing it off, but I don't think that it was working.

"I get them too, which is why I walk with tissues. Do you want a pack? I have like three in my bag."

He offered me the pack and I quickly declined. "No, it's fine. Thanks for offering." He ignored me as he placed the pack into my bag.

It's been a month since Donovan started school. He's very interesting. He has worn over 10 different types of flowers in his hair thus far. Today's flower is the Lily. The white flowers were woven into a silver coloured crown that lied on his thick curly hair. The only flower I knew by name were roses. Now, with Donovan's help. I'm a pro, kinda.

Most people stay away from Donovan. They're afraid of what others might say. I just don't care. It's their loss.

The bell has just rung and we were on our way out of English class to get food.

"Hamburger or Meatball sandwich?" I asked him as we walked.

"Neither. If you're so eager to buy me food, can you get me Oreos? They're my guilty pleasure." He smiled at me.

"I can get you the Oreos, but do you have food besides that? I promised you food. I'd feel bad only getting you cookies."

"It's okay. I'm on a diet anyway."

"Diet?" I questioned. My eyes quickly scanned his body. I was extremely confused. Donovan was not only short, but he was skinny too.

"I gained a few pounds."

"Where? In your brain?"

He blushed. "Everywhere. I have to be careful."

"How about Oreos and a fruit salad? They just started selling those last week," I suggested.

"That's thoughtful of you. Thanks. Lunch's on me tomorrow?"

"Definitely, not!"

"I insist."

"I'm good," I said with a shrug.

"Fine. Will you be busy for the second recess?"

"Uh...yes. Why?"

"I was just asking. I like to know when I'm going to be alone."

I instantly felt guilty. Twice a week during the second recess, I checked in with the school therapist. She relayed everything that was going on with my therapist.

Nobody knows that I meet with her and I plan to keep it that way. Mainly because people talk.

Phrases like "Depression doesn't exist" and "You choose to make yourself feel that way." were carelessly thrown around. The stigma of mental health is disgusting. I'm grateful that I had parents that took my issues seriously. I am depressed, but I wasn't going to let depression be a profound part of me.

Some days are better than most. Today was a good day.

"I'm sorry. I have this thing..."

"You don't have to apologize. I should try making friends."

"Maybe you should. They won't be as great as me, but at least you won't be alone."

"Most people here look at me like I'm an alien. I'm worried."

He frowned.

"I think you'd be popular among the girls. Samantha and Jess like you. They asked me about you the other day."

He looked frightened.

"Actually I don't think that I'm ready for new friends as yet. You'll have to do for now."

All I could think of doing was smiling and I did. After ordering we went to the front of the school library. They had an area where people could eat. We sat facing each other.

"This fruit salad is amazing."

"I don't know what's worse. A fruit salad or a vegetable one."

"At least fruits are sweet."

He bit a piece of strawberry from off of his fork and I bit into my burger.

"Hey... flowers have meanings right?"

"They do. Why?"

"What do lilies represent?"

He stopped eating for a second to think. "Hmm, they represent innocence and purity. Another meaning that I love is "the beauty of youth".

"The beauty of youth? What does that mean?"

"Generally speaking you're a child for a certain amount of years then you're an adult until you die. There's something special about being young. You get away with things. You have fewer responsibilities. You aren't aware that life is hard. You aren't aware that we're all going to die. It's morbid but true. The beauty of youth is that for a short time humans can live without any restraints. I wouldn't say the beauty of youth is happiness because that wouldn't be a right an— why are you looking at me like that?"

I didn't realize that I was staring at him. I let out an exasperated laugh.

"I like listening to you talk. I can tell that you love everything about flowers just by how you talk about them. I can tell that you genuinely like them and not just wearing them for attention."

"Yeah," he breathed out. "Flowers are my escape."

He averted his gaze to his fruits and shuffled his feet. I made things awkward.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"You didn't. I'm not used to compliments," he offered. "I'm not sure how to react."

"Oh. I guess I need to give you more compliments so you get used to it."

"That could work."

                                                   🐛

Home.

Things weren't back to normal. They never will be. But we're working on it. "You won't believe this," Rory, my little brother screeched at me. "Mummy bought me a Meeseeks costume."

Rory seemed to be the most well adjusted out of all of us. I'm happy but I hope it's not an act. Jean and him looked so much alike while I looked nothing like them. Their brown skin and tight curly hair contrasted my tanned skin and loose curls.

Rory spun around in the costume modelling for me. He made poses and faces.

I couldn't help but cringe. My ten-year-old brother shouldn't even be watching Rick and Morty.

"That's cool, Rory. Where would you wear it?"

"For Halloween. Duh. My teacher said we're having a costume contest and I'm going to win!"

"I'm Mr. Meeseeks look at me," he shouted running around the house in his costume.

I searched the house for my mother. She was in her room. I walked in to find her crying.

"Why are you crying?"

I reached out to her and pull her into my arms. "I miss him. There's a part of me that died that day. I can't go a day without thinking of him. My baby is gone."

"I thought that the therapy was helping."

"Unless they bring my baby back, what's the point? I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy. Kids are supposed to bury their parents not the other way around."

She cried into my arms. The tears in my eyes fought to be set free, but I couldn't allow that. I had to be strong for her. I had to put on a brave face.

"We will be okay."

"Do you believe that Jer? Do you really think that?"

"I do," I say not believing it myself.

Rory's costume-clad body ran into the room. My mother hid her face. She didn't want Rory to see her like this.

"Mummy, are you okay?"

"She's okay buddy. Wanna go watch tv with me?"

He didn't believe me. I wouldn't believe me either. But he agreed anyway. He walked out of the room.

"Maybe you should get some sleep. I'll take care of Rory. I love you so much and I hate seeing you like this."

She wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry baby. I think some sleep should help. I love you too."

I tucked her into bed, softly closing the door behind me.

I guess the difference between how Rory and my mother handled things showed the real meaning behind the beauty of youth.