The story of how my brother died
I don't know why I'm writing this. Maybe I'm telling his story because it's cathartic, maybe because I'm angry, maybe because I want people to feel sorry for me, maybe it's so people will listen; I don't know.
When I was 20 I lived in Ocean City for the summer. My brother came down to visit me for 4th of July weekend--he was 25. I learned after his death he was bipolar. I presume he was "self medicating" like my axfiance (he too is bipolar, so he says).
My brother had planned to get "sober" after that weekend; he made a pact with his gf that the two of them would have one last hoorah and go out with a bang so they could then go into recovery when they got home.
His behavior was erratic that weekend: sleeping all day, trying to get in bed with my friends at night, acting bizarre, binging. The last words relayed to my brother were words of anger and frustration due to his behavior. So I've had to live with guilt over that for years.
His death: he and his friends were driving home in a pickup truck on the highway. My brother in his drug addicted state thought it would be cool to climb into the cab of the truck and while the truck was barreling down the highway at 70 mph he tried to climb into the side window from the back of the truck. First attempt he succeeded. That must have been pretty cool to him and his friends, so he tried it again. Second attempt he fell onto the highway, head in pool of blood, gurgling and massive brain trauma.
He was rushed to shock trauma via helicopter. They couldn't take him back to Maryland as "the altitude would have killed him." The surgeons called my home and told us they were going to shoot ice water into his ears to see if there was any brain activity. Nada. So they told us "by law they have to try again in 24 hours but there won't be a change and to start making arrangements if we decide to take him off life support."
The next morning came and we removed him from life support and gave his organs away. 25 years old. I later found out through friends he was a crack/cocaine addict--had no idea. So many other things cane to surface as a result of his death. And now I watch my younger brother headed down that same fateful road: opiates, coke, alcohol. He drives high on his Harley. He's always getting lucky with near accidents, etc.
I'm starting Alanon classes tonight. Now that my axfiance has left me I have hit rock bottom. Thanks for listening. This site has been a God-send (even though I feel abandoned by God, too).