On Losing a Cousin to Suicide
[TW: death, suicide]
A month ago today, my cousin Colter took his own life. The night I found out, I had just spent the evening with my parents, the oldest of my brothers, and my brother’s girlfriend. Less than two hours after getting home, I was working on my next blog post and got the call from my dad that he had passed that same day. A million thoughts flew through my head at the same time: What happened? How can this be? Is my brother, who lives in Denver partially because of Colter, okay? Is his family okay? HOW CAN THIS BE???
He was only 27 years old.
On Losing a Cousin to Suicide
That first night was horrible, and the next day at work (I was in training, and it was very interactive…a good thing until I didn’t feel up to interacting) felt like the longest day ever. I also knew that my eyes were puffed up from crying all night. It probably looked like I had an allergic reaction or something. My table mates probably knew something was up. Later that day, we found out he died by suicide…with a gun.
I’ve experienced loss before, but never a loss like this one: a close family member that also happened to be really young, younger than me. Someone that struggled and that felt as though he thought it would be better for everyone if he left Earth. Someone that left Earth far before he was meant to leave. Someone that had access to a gun. I know there are other ways to die if you so choose, but a gun is an easy tool. It just takes one bullet.
I immediately felt awful for not seeing him/his family when we were in Denver at the end of March and early April. I’m sad that Korri never met him, and that he never got to get his hair cut and styled by Colter, an artist who took his artistic talents to a barbershop. My brother and Colter’s close friend spent hours with him the day before his passing getting his hair done. Colter told him about what he was going to do to his hair a couple of weeks later, and the next day, he was gone. Just like that.
Grief is a weird thing.
I’ve felt immense pain at the loss of the pets I’ve had throughout my life, and I’m already dreading the days that Rosie and Sybil will no longer be on Earth with me. I’ve also felt extreme sadness when others share their losses. With Colter, even though he was family (my step mom’s first cousin/my first cousin removed one generation), I was not that close with him. I honestly can’t remember the last time I saw him in person, and the most recent photo I have of us together is the one in this post. It was taken almost exactly 10 years ago, in Park City, Utah, when he was training ski tricks over the summer at the Utah Olympic Park.
I feel like because I wasn’t that close with him, it’s silly of me to be this sad. I’m so heartbroken. Is it silly to be this sad over someone you barely knew? Someone you only knew because you’re related by marriage? Someone you only knew because of social media and stories you heard from other family members?
Colter was an extremely talented freestyle skier that was the closest person to being an Olympian in my family. I think he would have made it if not for the injuries he sustained in his knees. He also had a fair number of concussions—his mom doesn’t know how many because he skied on his own so much. I wonder how much of that contributed to his mental health, now that we are learning more about how head injuries can affect that.
Colter’s funeral was the first I had ever attended, and it was horrible. Beautiful but horrible.
The family all met in a back room of the church and walked in together. (All of his mom’s siblings came to the service, including my grandma, along with family on his dad’s side.) I rode in the car with my brother, dad, and another cousin, and we came in through the front door instead of the back door. That was a mistake: seeing all of Colter’s friends there and crying broke my heart. I started spiraling. We walked into the church at the start of the service to a room completely full of people; it was so full that people were standing in the back. We estimated around 700 or so people were there. The barbers at the barbershop where he worked walked in wearing shirts with “Colter” written on the backs.
Colter’s ashes were in a beautiful wooden urn with a carving of a mountain sitting at the front of the church. His sister (and best friend), 5th grade teacher turned friend, and uncle read eulogies. My step mom and another cousin read a scripture. The pastor shared a sermon. Many people sang hymns. The whole thing was recorded and put on YouTube for those that couldn’t make it. Afterwards, there was a reception where they served his favorite food (chicken strips) and decorated all of the tables with his skiing medals. Everyone shared condolences with the family, ate, and mingled. I wanted to be anywhere else by that point.
It’s been two weeks since his service, and the random tears have subsided for the most part (though writing this post is bringing them back). It’s so hard to think of all of the things Colter is going to miss, all of the milestones he won’t reach. He and his younger sister had such a special bond. He was so close with his parents. I worry about my brother, who was so close to him and really looked up to him. They spent so much of their free time together.
I truly just can’t believe it. I know death is a normal part of life, but he was so young. He was younger than me. It’s not right that he’s not here anymore. He had his whole life ahead of him! He was supposed to turn 30! Then 35, then 40, then 45, then 50 and beyond! He was supposed to be around for the rest of my life. I have an old family photo with him from a family reunion on my Facebook, and he is the first person in the photo to pass. One of the youngest kids in the photo was the first to leave.
Rest in peace, Colter.
You are so, so missed. I wish I could have hugged you one more time. Mostly, I wish you were still here. Your family and friends love you so much.
I went back and forth on whether to write this post. It was something I never thought I’d write. I ultimately decided to write it out partially to get down “on paper” this experience, even though it’s so sad, and all the thoughts that have been swirling in my brain over the past month. I’m hoping this will help me process everything. I also wrote it to remind you that you are not alone if you’re going through the same pain. I’m so, so sorry. It’s truly awful. I’m sending you the biggest hug ever.
My step mom told me last night that on average, 85 men every day die by suicide. 85 families—shattered—every day. I wish that number was 0. I wish all suicide numbers were 0. 💔
Book recommendations for grief and loss
I had some really sweet, heartfelt, and heartbreaking conversations in my IG DMs after I shared his loss, and a few books were recommended to me. Here they are, in case you or someone you know needs ‘em (don’t forget to check your local library for these and other books):
Bearing the Unbearable by Joanne Cacciatore, PhD
Healing After Loss by Martha W. Hickman
I Wasn’t Ready to Say Goodbye by Brook Noel and Pamela D. Blair, PhD
Your Grief, Your Way by Shelby Forsythia
Resources if you lost a loved one to suicide
A wonderful friend in Utah shared the Live On Utah resources that are helpful if you’ve lost a loved one to suicide. Most resources are specific to Utah but some can be applicable no matter where you live.
If you know someone that recently lost a loved one to suicide, consider sending them “grief groceries” and/or gift cards for takeout/delivery.
Resources if you or a loved one is contemplating suicide
Text or Call 988
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255