It’s been three years since my oldest brother Justin took his own life during an argument with his girlfriend. His death came exactly one week after the first anniversary of our father’s suicide. He took an already impossible time of year and made it unfathomable, almost comical… almost. In many ways, he died just as he lived: with too much enthusiasm.

Justin was the type of person who dropped everything to drive five hours to visit me in the hospital or who would take a friend to a memorial, but he was also the type of person who would get drunk and start fights. He was the type of person who would protect…