My younger brother was found dead in his apartment. He was 46 years old. His story is a family tragedy. It illustrates the importance of recognising mental health issues early. My parents and I are devastated. In the pic, he's in the middle. #mentalhealth #mentalillness 
My brother was a handsome, blonde haired-kid. He was two-and-a-half years younger. Our relationship was typical. Sparring siblings but friends in the same household. We were never close, but united in an upbringing from loving, caring parents. But we were different.
Teachers noticed. I abided by rules, did well in school. He started to have behavioural issues. When he was in second or third grade, teachers began asking an odd question to my parents: Is he from your family? To them, the difference between us was stark.
No kid is inherently bad. But there were odd, out-of-place incidents at a very young age. Giving the finger to a teacher. Nonsensical insubordination. Why would he do that? My parents were stumped.
Families aren't perfect, and neither are parents. But my brother and I grew up with two parents 100% dedicated to their kids. We always came first. During the labor strikes of the '80s, my Dad was on the picket line. One time, it was more than 18 months.
My brother and I had no idea how financially hard they had it. As years passed, my brother's behaviour grew erratic. Breaking social norms as a pre-teen into his teens. Bad people became his friends. I remember asking him, "Why do you hang out with Jamie? That guy is trouble."
There were suspensions from school. Calls from teachers. Drugs entered. It spiralled quickly. I remember having to go to the police station after he'd been arrested for something. He was a minor, so there were still some chances left.
It was clear by this time mental health issues were in play. He had emergency psychiatric care when he was still a minor. My parents were desperate. They'd never dealt with this kind of situation before. It was heartbreaking.
As this was continuing, I'd left home to go to uni. Hospitalisation didn't result in a positive outcome. He started using again. More arrests. Violence. Violence toward my parents. Restraining orders. By this time he was 18 years old.
My parents and I had intermittent contact with him in the following years. He'd ask for money. I last saw him in 1999, walking down a street near the flat that I rented. I was about to leave for Seoul. I didn't stop.
I knew stopping would be an ask for money, another awkward conversation and gut-wrenching view of the boy I grew up, now struggling with drug and mental health issues. I can still see him walking down the street.
We knew this going to be the end, but his death isn't easier to process. In fact, it might be worse. We've been held in suspension for 30 years.
Some of you reading this know parts of this long story, but here's my reason for sharing it publicly: Intervene early if mental health issues manifest in friends, your kids, whomever. I can't say if earlier intervention would have made for a different outcome.
But I can say it wouldn't have hurt. My brother's issues started in the late '80s, early '90s, which were a different time for mental health awareness. Hopefully we are recognising the signs sooner when there is a window for change. Love you, JAK. #mentalhealth
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