Studies cite suicide as the eighth leading cause of death in the USA. For people in their teens and twenties it is the third leading cause. American Indians/Alaskan Natives, who account for about 16 percent of the Alaskan population, are among the racial/ethnic groups that have the highest suicide rates in the U.S. Among American Indian and Alaskan Natives, suicide rates are 70 percent higher than overall U.S. rates.
Ida Hildebrand
Ritchie Boy: The Life and Suicide of a Young Alaska Native.
Introduction
The men in my family are dying young as suicide steals my siblings. My brother, Richard Vernon Hildebrand, known as Ritchie Boy, committed suicide on August 6, 1987. It took almost six years until I was able to start writing about it-and him-perhaps because the story began much earlier.
On July 28, 1969, another brother, Bernard Thomas Hildebrand, known as Barney, accidentally shot himself at the age of twenty-seven. Unfortunately, the police listed his death as a suicide. Ritchie's death was indeed a suicide, and he too was twenty-seven. Then, on March 7, 2001, my brother Brian James Hildebrand, age twenty-seven, also committed suicide.
When my first brother died and I received the call in Seattle, it was as if an eagle had reached into me and ripped out all of my organs. I felt a big, gaping hole inside of me-a dark eternal Void. I put tears, memories, laughter, and more tears into that hole, but the pain wouldn't go away.
After a while, I didn't even realize that I was in mourning. As I searched for my brother, I didn't know what I was looking for; I was just endlessly searching, restless and dying inside.
I can now look back and see that a part of me died with my brother. I didn't begin to heal until I permitted myself to fall into the Void that existed within me. Once I began my freefall into that void of pain, I started to heal. But it was a long, slow process, lasting perhaps ten years.
My mother, Alice Carey Hildebrand, died five months after my first brother; and my recovery from that, too, took time. Then, as I was coming out of those first experiences of real mourning and loss, Ritchie left me. There was no denying that it was suicide; he left a note.
I need to stop the men in my family from leaving in this manner. Perhaps men and women in all families need to take a second look at what is happening and to reflect on what I have learned.
This is the story of my brother, Richard Vernon Hildebrand. We called him Ritchie, and as a small child he was Ritchie Boy. We are Alaska Natives. The rate of suicide among Natives between the ages of fifteen and twenty-seven is 31 percent higher than the national average. Yet, statistics are no comfort.
Since Ritchie's death, his story has haunted me, nagging me to tell it. I drafted the hard parts in 1993, but I then lost focus. Or maybe I just lost myself, my spirit and joy of living.
Our entire family adopted Ritchie. Although his genes didn't give him any breaks, my mother cultivated his spirit. To ensure his dark journey, however, she had to leave the Earth when he was only ten years old, before she completed his spiritual grooming.
This story also has to do with my own healing. In the second half of the book, I discuss what I have learned and a process that others can use for their own healing. Part I addresses the magical years of Ritchie's childhood. Part II discusses Ritchie's journey into darkness. Part III speaks of my personal experiences in healing. Part IV addresses how you, too, can create change and healing in your own life. I pray that by sharing my story and that of my brother Ritchie, I will be able to empower you to begin your own healing journey. If you're already on a dark journey, may you reconsider and turn back to the Light while you are still here on the Earth plane.
So, if you dare, come on this journey with me. Come and see what I have seen, feel what I have felt, and know that these are our experiences-not uniquely mine nor Ritchie's, but all of humanity's.
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