The news of my brother's suicide 'rubbed me raw like sandpaper.' Joey and I were born on the same day, eleven years apart, and for me, we would die on the same day eleven years apart-destiny and 'my promise.' I waited nine years to grieve. I kept 'my promise' to myself for ten long years. The grief from suicide is more traumatic than a 'normal' grief. My other promise was to stay sober in Joey's honor. I failed sobriety quickly, drinking to numb my life and no longer for fun and relaxation. I wi