Brother Broken is a story about three brothers, whose lives ended prematurely and tragically.
It begins in the 1960s, in a village, in Saskatchewan, somewhere north of normal. It's not a story that's dark or depressing, it's one of hope and gratitude, with a touch of ridiculous. Some parts are complicated, because there is nothing straightforward pertaining to broken.
I remember my brothers with words, I share the story of their lives. l tell of what decent boys they were, what they meant to me, how their lives were ordinary and sound before all the trouble started happening. I write, so people will learn the goodness of my parents, the wholesomeness of my extended family, that my kin weren't lowbrow hicks, who screwed-up raising kids.
Small town Saskatchewan couldn't be further from the spotlight. It's a great place to store secrets. A great place to fly under the wire. An even better place to get away with indiscretions. But you won't find evidence of wrongdoing. It's been buried for years and no pickaxe is durable enough to dig up a clue. But rest assured, you may find a lesson worth learning, one used to protect future generations.
Brother Broken is a story about three brothers, whose lives ended prematurely and tragically.
It begins in the 1960s, in a village, in Saskatchewan, somewhere north of normal. It's not a story that's dark or depressing, it's one of hope and gratitude, with a touch of ridiculous. Some parts are complicated, because there is nothing straightforward pertaining to broken.
I remember my brothers with words, I share the story of their lives. l tell of what decent boys they were, what they meant to me, how their lives were ordinary and sound before all the trouble started happening. I write, so people will learn the goodness of my parents, the wholesomeness of my extended family, that my kin weren't lowbrow hicks, who screwed-up raising kids.
Small town Saskatchewan couldn't be further from the spotlight. It's a great place to store secrets. A great place to fly under the wire. An even better place to get away with indiscretions. But you won't find evidence of wrongdoing. It's been buried for years and no pickaxe is durable enough to dig up a clue. But rest assured, you may find a lesson worth learning, one used to protect future generations.
I once had the eyes of a child, but I’ve slowly gone blind
And now I’m reaching around in the dark and don’t know what I’m gonna find
Big Sugar
“Bump on the Head”
I’m not a nice person. If you could read my thoughts, you would know this is true.
On first meeting, I may project the image of a rather pleasant, well-mannered person. Our conversation could revolve around a variety of interesting subjects, none of which reveal anything tangible about me. You would provide most of the dialogue and I would prompt you with lead-ins so you’d think you were controlling the conversation.
I wouldn’t interrupt your rambling. As long as you did all the talking, I could avoid sharing.
Without bringing attention to myself, I’d scan the room to avoid eye contact with you and note anything I could use to distract from our discussion. Eventually, the tedium would get to me, and I’d find any excuse to break from the harsh hell called small talk.
Please don’t take it personally. I treat everyone the same. My family is no exception, and I love them very much. Monopolizing my attention feels like an attempt to invade my isolation. That’s something I can’t tolerate for very long.
The sound of the phone ringing assaults my calm, its whining screech triggers panic. I get spooked, like a doe startled by a predator’s approach. I won’t answer anyone who attempts to reach me this way. I’ll assess the message left and consider whether to reply.
A text message is more likely to be acknowledged, but only if a response is necessary.
I don’t do social media.
If you ring my doorbell, you’ll be left standing outside. I’ll ignore the pressure to open the door. Unless you break it down, you won’t obtain access to my home . . . or me.
I’ll avoid you if there’s a chance we’ll run into each other.
Grocery stores are especially challenging. It’s an art to shop while scanning the aisles to dodge accidental encounters. One advantage to public locations is that no one notices other people’s movements unless they are consciously paying attention—which is what I do. My mission is to get the crap I need and get out, unobserved.
Sometimes, hostility builds inside me and I itch to get in someone’s face. I look to release some of the agitation I’ve repressed. I dream of planting a golf club through a windshield—preferably that of a very nice sports car whose driver has perturbed me. It pacifies me to imagine swinging a club and landing it somewhere wicked.
I don’t golf, but I could find a golf club . . . if I were to try.
But mostly I brood behind closed doors, and only dream of confrontation.
I know why I wake up most mornings with acrimony in my bones. I have nightmares. Actually I have the same nightmare, over and over again. It goes something like this.
I’m the lone traveler on a raft that’s been set adrift down a slow-moving river. The river is carrying me further from the dock, and it’s the only dock in the world. I see silhouettes of three boys—only sometimes, they are men. The trio are standing near the edge of the dock. I recognize them.
“Hey, can you throw me a rope?”
They ignore me.
I call out: “I’m sorry, I’ll change!”
They look at me with disdain, and show their backs to me.
I begin to panic as the river’s flow quickens, moving me fast away from the dock. The man-boys walk away together, paying no mind to my distress. They are the only ones able to save me from being swept out to open sea. Instead, they abandon me.
The dream ends, and I learn why I can’t redeem myself. It’s because I’ve caused them pain. I’ve been a bad sister, and they’re done with me.
I’m done with me. I can’t seem to fix me.
Want some advice? Stay away from me—protect yourself.
Here’s a reminder: I am not a nice person.
Just so you know, I wasn’t always like this.
Cecile Beaulieu‘s Brother Broken is a poignant memoir delving into her personal struggles and the devastating impact of suicide. Through her eloquent and persuasive prose, she explores the effects of mental illness and substance abuse, illuminating the remarkable resilience of the human spirit. This book offers profound insights into the complexities of our choices.
Cecile's childhood in Saskatchewan greatly influenced her identity and perspective. Her family faced challenges such as mental illness, addiction, and suicide. People perceived as strong and resilient often conceal their inner turmoil, a dynamic prevalent in her upbringing.
Cecile's family experienced several unfortunate events, causing her to distance herself emotionally and become isolated. Her brother John's excessive drinking at parties with their younger brother, Mitch, changed their relationship with John. After he suffered a work-related accident, he became despondent and eventually took his own life.
Sadly, two more of her brothers also suffered tragic ends. Denis suffered a head injury wrestling with other boys, causing him to become withdrawn. Despite connecting with people who could relate to his difficulties and receiving support, Denis committed suicide. Mitch, although a loving father, his bipolar disorder, coupled with diabetes, and an extravagant lifestyle led to his demise.
Suicide and survivors' guilt evoke emotions such as shame, stigma, and fear. In Cecile's case, she blamed herself for not preventing the loss of her loved ones. The author and her siblings internalized their trauma, leading to a worsening situation.
Notwithstanding the delicate subject matter, the writer’s captivating style engenders a deep connection with the audience. By using personal anecdotes and vivid descriptions, she delves into topics such as mental health, substance abuse, and suicide, rendering the book informative and relatable.
The book portrays the monumental impacts of tragedy on individuals, families, and communities emphasizing the significance of communal support. People battling inner conflicts are illustrated in a compassionate manner, exploring the emotional, motivational, and cognitive components of their circumstances. This memoir is an exceptional work addressing intricate issues with tenacity and humanity.
Cecile's raw emotion produces an emotive experience. Her writing elicits heartbreak and empathy, prompting readers to analyze their own perspectives. The author's sensitivity is evident, making this book ideal for those seeking hope, guidance amidst adversity, or a deeper appreciation for the resilience of the human spirit. The journey towards restoration resembles ascending a mountain, with each step leading to improved well-being, demonstrating healing is achievable.