“Learning about the traditional ways helped me and my family after my brother was killed.”

When my brother died, my family just fell apart. It was like there wasn’t any air in the house—I think that’s how I’d describe it.

We were all so sad all the time. Even if I did feel good, because one of my friends was joking around or something, I would then feel guilty. And I was so angry at him too for getting killed. He was riding his snowmachine and somehow, I don’t know how, he hit a big pile of firewood and got thrown off. He was 18 and I was 16.

I felt like he left us all behind because he was stupid. And then I’d feel guilty again because how could I be angry when my parents were so sad? It went around and around.

On the second anniversary of his death, I just couldn’t feel like missing him anymore. I got up really early in the morning and was walking to the picnic shelter by the lake. This other guy had hung himself there not long before. I felt like I wanted the lake to be the last thing I saw.

My neighbour was out though and started talking to me and I guess he could tell something was wrong. He kept talking to me and talking to me and then he woke up my parents. I never actually told them what I was going to do but they knew somehow. It was a big shock to all of us and it woke us up.

We started to get into the traditional healing; like my dad and I will do a sweat lodge with the other men. I’m not going to talk about that because it’s private. And my mom does the whole thing with burning sage and sweetgrass, which kind of stinks up the house but that’s okay I guess because she’s more like my mom again.

I didn’t know very much about the old ways before we started, but it feels good. We can talk to each other again. And I know I’ll see my brother again, but not until it’s time.