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This post contains content relating to suicide which some readers may find distressing
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Stephen was my uncle but he was much more than that. He was like a big brother, the best big brother you could imagine. I grew up in the same house as Stephen, I used to wait at the front gate on him everyday coming home from work.....I always knew he’s have a milky bar for me in his pocket.
When we moved out, when I was about 8, he may as well moved with us as he calling in nearly every day anyway lol. Even Christmas mornings you knew he was waiting outside with the video camera...waiting on us to get up and see what Santy brought.
As I grew older we became great friends, sharing music, movies, life dreams and worries. I could talk to Stephen about anything.
In 2013 I moved to Melbourne, Australia. Stephen set up WhatsApp shortly after that and we were able to send video messages and phone each other. He would phone me during my morning work break as he was going to bed. I came home for a visit in December 2014 and that would be the last time I seen him, hugged him.
Around June 2016 I noticed he had went quiet on WhatsApp and few days later my mummy rang me as I was walking to work. She told me something was wrong with Stephen, he was having some sort of breakdown, he was sick. I remember her telling me that he kept saying it was some tablets he was put on recently and me dismissively saying “how could it be the tablets”.......(how stupid were we).
Instead of listening to Stephen I began searching for other answers.....could he have bipolar etc He fitted most of the criteria....he was acting so so out of character.
A couple of weeks had passed. 29th July 2016 was shaping up to be one of the happiest days of my life. I had just left the office.....I was off work in Melbourne for 2 weeks, we were coming home to get married, we had leaving parties planned and I’d just got a nice lump sum of tax back but most importantly I was going to see my family again, spend time with Stephen, get him better.....I remember almost skipping down Collins Street with the sun beaming off my face.
My fiancé Patrick and I went to Cole’s, we were planning on making Salted Chilli Chicken that night for dinner....my basket was almost full and the I got a phone call.......Mummy. I knew instantly, it was too early for her to be ringing me.....fear swept through me as I answered the phone to her screaming, crying, howling.....”Stephen’s done it”
I dropped my basket, I don’t remember much more except Patrick escorting me out of the shop and through the car park.
We got back to Ireland within two days, never to return. We left everything in Melbourne except what we needed. I cried the whole plane journey (I feel sorry for the lady next to me who kept handing me tissues, I couldn’t even look at her to explain) but the car trip from Dublin airport to Coalisland felt even longer than Melbourne to Dublin.
I pulled up to the house, it was another sunny day......I remember mummy guiding me in to see Stephen.....I remember almost collapsing as I went to go into the front room where he lay.....then I remember sobbing in disbelief telling everybody that I could hear him....”shush, I can hear him talking, he’s in the other room”
As the initial state of shock eased and I came round a bit I started to talk to mummy and my Aunty Jacqueline they kept saying “it was the tablets, it was the tablets”.....I was almost feeling sorry for them, I thought they were lashing out, looking for something to blame.