Nobody, and I mean nobody in their wildest dream expects or wants to find a note that reads “I’m very sorry, please forgive me” and what follows after. Especially when you know the person very well, who is your brother and deep inside you know it is not a bluff, the note is written very earnestly and devastatingly shocking.

One’s mind can be very devilishly cunningly, and will try to interpret something that is spelled out clearly into something differently. My mind was trying to do so as I read his note, and I read it again, and again. I ran to my sister’s room.

I somehow got into a discussion with a colleague of mine about suicide, this was right after Heath Ledger’s death and it was ruled as not suicide, and she had mentioned “it is very selfish of a person to take their own lives.” She saw the expression on my face, and was quick to say if she had said anything to offend me, she apologizes.

My coworker did not offend me, but it was hard for me to think of my brother as a selfish person, if anything he was the opposite of selfish. My younger brother had taken his life, he was just 22. It was hard for me to think how someone could make a general judgement of someone else, and label them as “selfish” when they don’t know what this other person is going through…

I remember reading Mohandas Gandhi’s book “My experience with the truth”, Gandhi brought up suicide and that he had contemplated it and expressed it is one of the hardest things to carry out…

My brother was one big-hearted person, I have ever known, and I say this not because I am his sister, I say this objectively, as a human being, some people I didn’t know, who knew him, also told me so, after he had passed. His kindness knew no bounds, he would help you if he could, or find someone who could help you. He had a certain charm, he listened, yes, actually listened, compassionate, had a wonderful sense of humor, but then he could also be absorbed into being very dark place. A place he didn’t want to share, a place I couldn’t reach him at.

My mother and I were in shopping in Queens, New York. We walked into a saree store, and my mother recognized some ladies who were shopping at the store. My parents used to live in Bonn, Germany, and one of the staff members at my father’s work got married to this family, who lived in New York. The wedding took place in Bonn, and my brother helped out a lot with the wedding preparations. My mother approached these ladies, she introduced herself and was making small conversation. These ladies, just started at my mother, they couldn’t recognize her or find the connection how she knew them. Finally, my mother said I’m Asif’s mother, and then they recognized her, right away. They remembered my brother and the help he had given.

I come from a background where suicide is considered a taboo, a sin and not talked about. The subject of suicide is not brought up, it is diverted, or just an awkward and uncomfortable silence. My parents would not acknowledge it. And they makeup something else.

I struggle with the idea of suicide; I struggle why such a negative point of view. I also struggle with the idea, that when I read the Scriptures or Spiritual books and writings, it is mentioned your birth date and death is already determined. So then, following this logic is the higher power also in control in a suicide? This cannot be all the one person’s decision only, can it?

Death cannot befall anyone before it is due. – Spiritual Elixir- Kirpal Singh 

To understand suicide more, I decided to look up the statistics. The World Health Organization (WHO) states “close to 800,000 people die each year from suicide”. The WHO estimates that suicide is the thirteen-leading cause of death worldwide. And according, to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, suicide is the 10th leading cause in the United States. Suicide seems to be more common among teenager and adults under 40 and the suicide rate is a lot higher in males. And for every suicide there are many, many, more people who attempts it each year.

I had a dream, no a vision actually, this was more like two years prior to my brother’s suicide, there was a body of water, and several police and my brother’s body being pulled out from the body of water. I checked on my brother he is fine, I know I’m over worrying about him.

I had the same exact vision again, several months later. Checked on my brother, he looked fine. Try not to over worry, I think to myself.

Another anecdote on my brother’s good heartedness, my sister had worked with someone who was a single mom, and she had to work in the weekend and didn’t have a babysitter for her son. My sister mentioned to my brother if he could help her out, “yes” he said and offered to look after her son and didn’t want any money in exchange. My brother made sure the boy had fun while he looked after him!

The Note my brother left was a very detailed, I found on a Wednesday night. In his note he mentioned he was very sorry, and he could not live on…. He gave us instructions on who of his friends to inform, and the money he left after closing his Bank account. He cleaned out his room, threw away everything, of his. His room was spotless cleaned. It was as if he knew, he knew his sojourn on earth is nearing an end soon.

But the note didn’t give details to where he might have gone, or what he was about to do. And I didn’t know where he had could have gone, or if he needed help. I woke my sister up. I showed her the note, after she read the note, my sister notified the police.

I was in college taking some night classes and at that time I didn’t have a car. I would have to take an overcrowded bus to the metro and then from the metro take a bus to home. One day, while waiting for the bus, to my surprise my brother stopped by to give me a ride. What a lovely surprise! I was happy he came; it had been a long day; a ride was much appreciated.

I was close to my brother; I knew to take his note seriously. I knew whatever was to happen, the outcome will be grim. There were so many scenarios that ran through my mind. Maybe jumped from a building, maybe this, maybe that. I had prayed that if my brother had done anything crazy like jumping from a building, I hope he is not still alive and hurting, and nobody to help him. And every details of his days before the note that I played over and over in my mind. How could I have been so blind?

Then the following Saturday afternoon the police knocked at our home, I had just not too long ago was on the prayer rug, from all of my being asked God take me, and save him instead.

I was by myself when the police came, and they would not tell me anything, being at home by myself, and then my mother came home, not soon after, the police asked us and insistent a little that we call a priest or religious person. When we told them we have none, they told us, they told us that they found my brother’s body.

My brother had jumped from a bridge somewhere in the District of Columbia. A jogger saw his body float up and informed the police. In his pocket he had his Virginia driving license, a phone card.

As soon as the police left, I collapsed I cried, I shrieked. I needed to express my grief, my disbelief, my despair, my loss, and the betrayal I felt that God had not answered my prayer. I remember my mother trying to calm me down.

Afterwards, trying to gasp what has just transpired, I remembered my dream my vision, it hit me like a sharp knife. In our grief, my mother recalled a story she knew about God and the Angel of death. I don’t know if the story is true, I tried to look it up, but couldn’t find verify the story, or maybe it was it something my mother said to me to get me to be calm.

The story is about the angel of death requested to talk to God regarding his job. The angel goes to God and said to God, that he does not like the nature of his job. The angel of death feels really bad to take someone’s life, and more so when they have to take a life when a loved one is nearby. God turned to the angel of death and said “please do not worry about your job, I will make sure nobody will blame you.”

My mother had shared right after my brother passed, that she had dreamed of her mother, who was cooking up a storm, my grandmother told my mother she is expecting a guest.

Trying to understand what had just transpired with my brother, I wanted to know more on what happens after a person dies. I wanted to know that wherever he is at, he is taken care of, and he is looked after?

My upbringing in Islam was not really structured one, it was mostly trying to read the Koran, learn to pray and reading stories from the Koran. But after my brother passed, I wanted to know, what happens to someone when they die. Where do they go, how are they taken care for?

I went to the library, and checked out some books to read about after-life, what I found was not satisfying, not what I was looking for, not anything that made much sense or something I could relate to.

To make matters worse, my brother would come to me in my dream, more than once, it was so real, so powerful, and he would say he didn’t die, he was still alive. I would wake up, my reality all mixed up. I would lay in bed. I didn’t know what the truth is anymore. The events that took place, identifying my brother’s body, a funeral, grief, and then on the other hand my brother saying he is alive how could that be? Am I going crazy?

In midst of this, someone I had known, I had told him about my brother and he introduced to world of spirituality. I had told him about my brother visiting in my dream and what to make of it? He told me that my brother is trying to tell me his soul is alive. I understood, since then my brother visits in my dream stopped.

If I die, don’t say that he died. Say he was dead, became alive, and was taken by the Beloved. -Rumi 

I took up meditating, trying to understand the meaning of life. But even in my spiritual reading, suicide is not looked on kindly. If someone is to have known to taken their own life, in spiritual it is said, they have to keep coming to the world and keep taking their own life for a certain period of time.

I don’t understand? Why do they say someone faith is already written, but then punish them for it? I cannot think God could put someone in such a predicament.

My brother was a nice and kind soul, it is heartbreaking the way his life ended, and for him there was no other way. I was mad at him, at God, at myself for not being able to reach out to him. But now, I find myself at peace and nineteen years has passed. There are many things I still don’t understand about suicide, and I don’t know if I ever will.

Seven years ago, I spent some time at an ashram in India. I didn’t once think about my brother while I was there. But when I boarded the plane to come back home, I closed my eyes, to get some needed sleep, the first thing is I see is my brother. He was happily smiling ear to ear.