There is a loss in my life that is extremely difficult to talk about.  It happened 20 years ago and I have yet to be fully honest with more than one person about my feelings because they seem wrong and make me think that I am a terrible person.  But the stress of holding onto this has brought me to a point at which my insides are gnawing at me and my conscience tells me I have to come clean.  Still, I don't want to hurt anyone, so that is why I am here - so I won't tell those people who have their own personal pain about this loss.

My brother died when I was a teen and he was just 21.  It was a horrible tragedy and I wasn't myself for a couple of years afterward.  Actually, none of us were ever the same.  But the trouble is, people who only knew him for about a year, as well as those who were acquainted with him long-term but only ever actually spent time with him a handful of times, have been singing his praises over and over for years when in fact he was not very nice at home.  In short, he was combative and completely uncaring of anyone's needs but his own.  I remember hiding in my room often to get away from the fights he started with my father.

We had some good times but only a small number.  I understand that he was just a kid struggling to grow up.  And I understand that he was trying to turn over a new leaf after school.  That's all very relatable and I get it.  But why do people have to act like he was a hero and place him on a pedestal?  He was selfish. I think because he died so young and tragically he was lionized, deified.  His life wasn't consistent with the way people talk about him and they seek me out so often, as his sibling, to talk about him.  I just don't know what to say.  I end up biting my tongue and agreeing with them, which is cowardly.

I loved him and was traumatized by his death but I wish he hadn't been turned into a saint.  I wish we could remember him as the complicated person we actually knew and loved.

I'm sorry... I think this makes me a terrible person for feeling this way.