I went home to visit my family for the Fourth of July. Drove up Thursday and got there in the early afternoon, talked to my mom for a while, and then began calling my siblings to schedule some time together. Andrew had to work night shifts Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, so I said I would come pick him up and we could hang out for a while.

A few months ago he finally managed to get a place of his own. He was 21 and had been bouncing back and forth between Mom and Dad since high school. He was renting half a duplex with his new girlfriend, a sweet 17-year-old whose parents had left town just before she graduated. This was my first time seeing their place, and it was really nice. They had a full compliment of furniture, two cats, a refrigerator with real food in it. The place was really clean. It was so great to see my brother living like a grownup. Kind of weird, because his place was more grownup than mine.

We drove around all afternoon, visiting our sister Alice, our stepmom Bridget and little brother Cole, and my friend Melody. Andrew played with Melody's 4-year-old son, good-naturedly impersonating various dinosaurs until Melody's husband came home and all three boys went outside to play with sparklers and fireworks.

On the drive home I told Andrew that I thought it would be a really great idea if he and his girlfriend moved to Orlando to live with me for a while. He could repeat my success with a high-paying job and a small house of his own. It was a conversation we had had before, but this was the first time he seemed eager to do it, and we discussed the logistics of the move. He said that he would probably come alone, though, because things were rocky with his girlfriend. Either way, I told him, he would be welcome. I tried not to get my hopes up, but couldn't help feeling excited that he was actually considering the idea.

Yesterday my brother Andrew called my office phone in the middle of the day, something he had never done before. He said that he was ready to come live in Orlando right now, he just had to get out of his lease. He sounded a little unhappy, and when I asked if things were over with his girlfriend, he said yes. I made sympathetic noises, and he brushed it off. We talked for a while about the furniture he might be able to bring and the state of his car. I thought we could work it all out so that he would be comfortable. I could put him in the master bedroom as soon as I moved the kittens to the study.

Mom called last night to talk about Andrew. She said it seemed like he really was determined to move in with me, and I tried to infect her with my enthusiasm. She was sad to think of her baby boy moving away, though. She always held on to him the hardest, because he was her youngest, and he had three sisters picking on him all the time. We used to make him wear dresses if he wanted to play with us. Sometimes we tied him to a chair to keep him out of our hair. We used to scream at him to shut up because his monotone voice made us crazy.

At 6:00pm tonight I was painting my house, finally, something I've been meaning to do for a couple of years, now. I thought it would be nice to have done before Andrew moved in. The fan was on and the doors were open, so I could hear the pouring rain and thunder as clearly as if I were standing outside. Big D was here helping me, and we were getting ready to go back to Home Depot for more plastic sheets when the phone rang.

My sister Amber was on the line, and she sounded tense. "Is Uncle Bern there yet?" she asked.

"What? No. Is he coming over here? Why is he coming here?" A visit from my uncle was a worrisome thing, since he and Big D are not on speaking terms.

"I can't tell you right now, I'll call you back in a little while." Amber said. I tried to get more information, but she insisted that she would have to call me back.

Uncle Bern's wife Lynn called me a few minutes later to ask if I would be home in an hour so that they could bring me something. "Sure," I said, "what's going on?"

"It's a surprise." Lynn said. "I'll see you in an hour."

Amber didn't call back, and when I called her cell phone it sent me directly to voicemail. The cryptic bullshit was freaking me out, so I called Mom to see what was going on.

A stranger answered the phone at my mother's house and said "who is this?" in a sharp tone.

"Um, this is Anna. I'm sorry, I must have the wrong number"

"No, this is your Mom's friend Vicki"

"Is my mom home?"

"She can't come to the phone right now. Can I have her call you back?"

"Yes, please."

I knew something was wrong and it was making me crazy that no one would tell me. I called Lynn back and asked what she was bringing over. "Is it bad news? Did someone die?"

"No," Lynn said soothingly, "It's nothing like that. We just have to bring you something, not from us, but from someone else. It was supposed to be a surprise, but it's half-ruined now, since your sister called you."

"Oh. Sorry, I just got a little worried because Amber didn't call back and some stranger is answering my mom's phone."

Lynn told me not to let my imagination get too wild and assured me they would be over shortly. I sent Big D to Home Depot with assurances that I would call him after they left. "I guess Amber must have gotten me a present or something and they're delivering it for her."

I was pretty gross from a day of painting, so I hopped in the shower, and by the time I finished drying off the doorbell rang. My Uncle and Aunt stood on the doorstep in the pouring rain. They didn't have anything with them.

Once invited inside, they exclaimed over my beautiful choice of paint colors, then asked me to sit with them in the middle of the empty floor. Lynn scooted next to me and put her arm around my shoulders. "I lied," she said, "but we didn't think it would be good to tell you over the phone. Go ahead, Bern." Uncle Bern just stared at me, unable to speak.

"Someone did die?!"

They nodded.

"Who is it? My mother?"

Bern shook his head no.

"My father?"

No.

"My brother." and it wasn't a question, because I just knew.

"Yeah." Lynn said. She only acknowledges Andrew as my brother, because steps and halves don't count with her.

"What happened, was he in an accident?"

"No, not exactly." and she mimed a gun with her fingers and put it to my temple.

"Someone shot him?!"

"No. He killed himself."

My brother is dead. I've said it out loud, and I've typed it here, but it doesn't seem real and I don't want it to be. I want to forget that I ever heard it and pretend that it didn't happen.

Bern spoke for the first time, to tell me that he would drive me up to my mother's house tomorrow, and we could stay until the funeral, which hadn't even been planned yet. They insisted that I come home with them for the night and I was too stunned to resist. I packed an overnight bag, checked the locks on all the doors, and rode with them.

I tried to act normal. But once inside their house I felt trapped and a little crazy. I didn't want to talk about it, but we could not stop sermonizing on the stupidity of suicide and speculating on the exact cause and wondering about the precise chain of events. I excused myself out onto the back porch to use my cell phone.

I didn't call my mother, because for some reason I thought she would be too busy to talk to me. I called Big D, to let him know about Andrew and ask him to care for the dogs and cats while I was gone. I tried to call some of my friends, but no one answered. When I went back to sit with my aunt and uncle, the phone rang, and it was my sisters and mother, finally ready to talk to me now that someone had been able to break the news in person. Amber couldn't stop apologizing for calling me too early. She couldn't stop crying. She was only a year and a half older than Andrew. We always called them The Kids while Alice and I were The Girls. Amber and Andrew shared a room until high school, and after that they shared a car.

My mother's voice tonight is the saddest thing I've heard in my entire life. She was calm, though, and she tried to comfort me as I tried to comfort her. She told me that the police said it was a very quick death, and probably painless. "He would never have done it if he hadn't been drinking." she said. "I told him he shouldn't drink when he was already sad, because alcohol is a depressant, and he said he wouldn't and that he was going over his friends house, but instead he got a bottle of liquor and drank it all, which is when he came up with this brilliant idea."

His girlfriend found him when she got home from work at 4:00. She called 911 and was still at the police station answering questions when I spoke to my mother at 7:30. Mom had asked her pastor to go to the station and make sure she was alright.

"That poor girl." I said "I can't believe he did that to her."

"I know."

When I hung up with my mom I tried calling my friend Noelle again and was so incredibly relieved when she picked up the phone. I told her what happened, and asked if she could pick me up. I couldn't stay there. They mean well, and they are family, but I needed my friends and I needed to sleep in my own bed.

Noelle dropped me off at home, and when I'm finished writing this and take another shower and put some makeup on I'm going out, because I don't want to think about this any more. I want to see some friends before I got out of town for a funeral.

I swore I would never go to another funeral, after the horrific last one. I also swore I would never mourn or acknowledge a loved one of mine who dared to commit suicide. Anyone who would do such a thing and cause this much pain to their friends and family does not deserve a memorial, I always thought.

But it turns out that a funeral isn't about the person who died. It's about the ones who are left behind, and I can't let my mother go through that without me.

And I still fucking love my brother. God damn him! No, God, I didn't mean that, please don't damn my brother. God, I just hope you fucking exist so that my brother is still out there somewhere.