Devastated brother describes anger and sadness after Sheffield Wednesday-mad father-of-two's tragic death

It was the last interaction the two brothers would ever have.

Just a few hours later, Matt died by suicide. He was 36 years old, his final birthday last month, with his wife Kelsie and young daughters, Isla and Thalia, now beginning to pick up the pieces of a life without him. The decision has left all who knew him reeling. A big Sheffield Wednesday fan, his funeral - the family want it to be a celebration of his life, not a focus on his death - will be blue-themed.

Hi Ho Silver Lining, the Owls' signature song, is one of the song choices. Neil Diamond's Sweet Caroline is another.

"It's something him and the girls used to sing," Richard said. "They asked for it, which is heartbreaking."

Matt's tragic passing has left questions and, amongst the sorrow, shock and grief, anger as well.

He suffered from mental health issues previously and their mum, Jean, raised the alarm while Richard was at work while their dad Ian searched the Parkwood Springs space near Matt's home.

"At first I just thought he was being an idiot, so I carried on at work," Richard said. "But then I couldn't shake the feeling that I didn't want to take a risk. There was a couple of hours of daylight left so I could look for him. But it turned out he was already dead."

A news article, about someone taking their own life, was shared with the family. "It was like: 'S***'," Richard remembered. "Then you think: 'Surely not?'"

"Me and my mum had convinced ourselves that it wasn't Matt but then she called me as I was driving back home," Richard recalled.

"I was dreading it. She asked if I was driving and said she'd ring me when I got home, but I could tell she was upset. I knew what had happened by her voice."

Then, with the memories of that horrible call flooding back, he let out a sigh.

The middle brother of three who grew up on Southey Crescent in Longley, Richard bravely opened up in the hope that another family could potentially be spared the devastation caused to his own.

"My overriding message to anyone thinking of killing themselves," he said, "would be that, if you're leaving anybody behind who cares about you - kids, a wife, family, friends - then you're risking ruining their lives as well," he said.

In an emotional tribute Richard described Matt, his best man at his wedding in 2021, as his best mate.

"You've been there for my worst times," it read, "and I wish I could have been there that one last time and helped in some way."

It signed off by telling his brother he loved and hated him at the same time.

"The first thing I did after my mum told me the news was swear at him," Richard said. "The other day I was talking about a memory and it brought up the anger again. I launched my phone across the room. That was my overriding emotion at the time and I couldn't bottle it up. If I'm angry I'm going to tell him.

"It's been my way of coping with it. Just telling him. He was normally a really positive bloke. A loving dad and husband, and someone who was always there for me when I needed him. It's run through my head: why didn't you let me be there for you? I've pushed a lot of stuff to one side in my mind. What if I'd sent him a different message that morning? But why would you?"

Rather than dwell on his brother's decision, Richard is keen to remember the good times.

"Because we were close from being kids, really close, it wasn't really like I looked up to him as such. It was more just like being best mates than anything else. We grew up liking the same sort of stuff and were quite close in age, so that helped. I remember flying down our steep road in the back of our other brother Chris's plastic tractor, with one of us holding on in the trailer in the back," he said.

"Or pestering our mum and dad to let us 'test' the new games console she'd bought us for Christmas, from about September until she eventually took it back to wrap up in early December. Or playing rugby for hours together, walking back from the park in our boots absolutely caked in mud until we got home and mum made us strip off in the garden before we could walk into the house.

"I can't put into words how the week has been. A struggle is probably the best description. You're grieving, but you want to remember all the good stuff while there are a million other things to think about. I know his girls will do him proud. And he will be missed by everyone who loves him."

Call the Samaritans on 116 123.