My twin brother picked a lousy time to kill himself.

He died three months before the Red Sox won the World Series. He didn’t see the Patriots go 18-0 and almost win another Super Bowl. This year’s Celtics are having their best start in team history. Even the Bruins are playing solid hockey at both ends of the ice. And, last week he missed Boston College, his alma mater, beat my alma mater BU in overtime at the Beanpot hockey tournament. He would’ve loved that.

In his obituary notice, mourners were encouraged “in lieu of flowers” to make a donation to Barack Obama’s Presidential campaign. Unfortunately, because my brother jumped off a cliff five months before the Iowa Caucuses began, he didn’t see his candidate collect almost 1,000 Democratic delegates by Super Tuesday.

I don’t pretend to understand the desperation my brother must have felt as he stood on that ledge and decided to end his life. I’m not a psychologist or a social worker, although ironically he was. But I can’t help wonder, in those final terrible moments of torment, did my brother consider what he might miss by checking out so soon? A major sporting event. A wedding. One of his sons pitching a shutout or getting a promotion. The birth of a grandchild. The next season of “Entourage” or “American Idol.”

My brother’s funeral was so crowded they actually ran out of Communion wafers. He would’ve found that both funny and humbling. His sons and daughter-in-law delivered eulogies that caused huge tears and giant smiles throughout the church. A thousand heads bobbed in unison at the memory of a wonderful father, colleague, hockey coach, mentor, and caregiver.

Because we were identical twins, several mourners I’d never met before felt compelled to come up to me and touch my face and hair, even smell me, just so they could have one final remembrance of their friend and therapist.

Later, a couple of people said they believed the “demons” infesting my brother’s patients had somehow transferred to his body like something out of a Steven King novel. There could be no other explanation why such a great man would be driven to suicide. But, I don’t believe that for a minute.

I do believe, now more than ever, in the telepathic connection that twins are reported to have. Months before his death, I sensed that something was troubling my brother. I asked him about it once, but he quickly shot me down. I let it go because, after all, he was the trained professional who would surely be able to self-diagnose his own emotional problems. I curse myself for not pushing harder. For not being there for him. For not letting him know how much I cared for him.

So, my advice here is neither very original nor earth shattering. First, if someone is special to you, tell them how you feel. The online testimonials to my brother on legacy.com and mem.com are amazingly beautiful in their praise of his life and deeds. It’s a shame he’ll never get to read them and know what an impact he had on so many people.

Second, if you think a friend or loved one is troubled, encourage them to talk about it. No, make them talk about it. Don’t be afraid of appearing too nosy or pushy. You just might find this person really wants someone to share their feelings with, to listen to their subtle cries for help.

Finally – and this is what I wish I had been able to say to my brother – if suicide seems to be the only answer, think about what you might miss when you’re gone. What could happen tomorrow, next week or next year that you’d really like to see for yourself? A prom. An anniversary. A great new movie. The first African-American or woman President. The Boston Bruins kissing the Stanley Cup.

Paul would have loved that.