Your story is pretty much EXACTLY what happened to my brother. He was in my parents' house, in their bathroom, and they heard a big "THUMP" when he fell and hit his head against the countertop. The door was locked, and my parents had to get in there to get to him. He too was blue, and my mom is the one who saw him first. That does make me angry, but then, like you said, I'd rather have it happen there than on the street somewhere.
Just before he went upstairs to the bathroom, my mom was unloading groceries and had gotten him some Mountain Dew. He said, "You're really taking care of me, aren't you Mom?" I had driven him to and from work over the weekend and told him how proud I was of him for staying clean and working. I'm glad I did that, but am left wishing I had said more. Given him a hug or something.
Thank you so much for sharing. Unfortunately, it is somewhat comforting to know that others have gone through the same thing.
Jen
Originally Posted by
outonalimb 
Jen,
As I think I mentioned on an earlier thread, my brother died of an overdose in February of 2005. He was 42 years old. Although I suspected that he had a drug problem for a number of years (he was always in and out of jobs, never had any money...you know...some of the tell-tale signs of drug use...) he never seemed like an addict (whatever that means).
My brother overdosed about 6 weeks after he helped me move out of my marital home because my exah was a heroin addict. I was so damn focused on what my exah was doing...that I failed to see any signs that my brother was also struggling with addiction. I was completely blindsided. My whole family was blindsided.
One morning, my mother (who was 77 at the time) heard a loud thump in the upstairs bathroom. My brother was living at home at the time. She ran upstairs to find that the bathroom door was locked. She couldn't get it opened. She woke my dad (who was 79 at the time) and together they tried to force the door open. They could hear my brother moaning inside and they knew he was in trouble. They had to call the paramedics...and when the medics managed to get the door open, my brother was on the floor...blue...with a needle sticking out of his arm. An autopsy later showed that the needle had cocaine and heroin in it. My dear parents watched helplessly as my brother took his last breath.
The delay in getting to my brother probably meant the difference between 'reviving him' and losing him forever.
I remember being really really really ANGRY at first. Angry at my brother that he would do this in my parents home. The only thing I could think about was how badly I wanted to protect my parents from this pain.
At the time fo his death, I can fairly say that I was full of shock and anger but mostly anger. And then I felt guilty for being so angry. I felt guilty because I didn't know he was struggling...I thought about all of the things I probably said about my exah and addicts in general when he helped me move out of my marital home...I probably said some unkind things about drug addicts...not knowing...not even suspecting...that my brother was wrestling with the demon too.
The night before he died, my brother came over to my house and dropped off a piece of furniture that he had picked up for me at my former marital home. He got down on the floor and played with my son and his new race track. Before leaving, he gave me a big old hug and kiss and he told me that he loved me. And I was taken aback. We were very close but our usual form of communication was teasing one another... And the way he told me he loved me and gave me a kiss and a hug actually caught me by surprise. I told him I loved him too and shooed him out the door.
Ten short hours later, I got the call...he was dead.
I'm still grieving. Almost all of my posts on this board have dealt with my struggles in dealing with my exah's addiction...and how it effects our son...but honestly I struggle just as much with grieving for my brother. For some reason, I've kept this struggle more private... At first I think I kept it secret because I didn't want the moms on this board to read about this...like I wanted to protect them or something...but lately I've been thinking that I need to work thru this here...in a place where I feel safe because carrying the pain around inside of me isn't the answer.
I miss him like crazy. STill...to this day...I cry when I think about him. I don't know how long this grieving process is going to last...I really don't...but I do know thats its a long process and we have to be patient with ourselves.
You're probably going to experience alot of emotions...anger, sadness, guilt...and strange combinations of these emotions as time goes on. With time, however, I began to take comfort in so many of my happy memories from our childhood. We were really close growing up. I cherish those memories. I'm grateful that I got to tell him that I loved him one last time in the hours leading up to his death. And as much as I hate the fact that my parents went thru any of this, I'm even a little bit grateful that he died in my parents home...in a familiar and loving place...probably knowing that my mom and dad were on the other side of the door...instead of dying in his car or in some drug den under circumstances that would have left us wondering exactly what happened.
It helps to come here and share with people who understand.
I hope in time that your happier memories with your brother will overshadow the pain you are feeling right now. Give it time...and give yourself as much love and pampering as you possibly can.
With much, much love, understanding and support...