Another Year Has Passed

[Don-Tony]

I've never tried really writing this all down... In 7/19 I lost my little brother to his alcoholism. I was 34 and he was 29. He had been battling his demons for a long time and would get better an relapse. About two weeks prior we lost our grandmother due to her age and health. He didn't come to the services or anything else we had going on. He was angry with me on top of it all. In the months before he had made threats of self harm and I called the police for welfare checks. When he went to the psychiatric hospital I laid everything I knew out for them, including the things he wouldn't tell them. The day before his death I went to find him. He didnt answer his phone, though I could hear it through the door. He didn't answer the door. He was living in one of those efficiency apartments that was a converted hotel. I spoke to his building manager and the police and since someone had seen him that morning they weren't concerned. I sat outside his building for like 3 or 4 hours hoping to just catch a glimpse of him, hoping he was just avoiding me. I finally went home because I had tried everything I could think of and per the police they wouldn't get involved for a few more days. The next day I went to work as I was training a new employee. I had to shut my phone off for a little over an hour due to the training. When I turned it back on afterwards I saw it all. My sister and aunt both sending "Call me now", 10+ missed calls. I knew... I crumpled and sobbed even before I called them back. When I did call they confirmed it all. I rushed over, arriving just after the coroner left with him. The building owner told us we could wait but my sister, aunt and I decided we needed to get his things. I walked into that room and almost fell over. Vomit everywhere, lines of empty miniatures, empty jugs of really cheap booze. We gathered it all up and left. 

In the following weeks we heard from the medical examiner, acute alcohol toxicity or something like that. They place the time of death at approximately 18hrs prior. Nothing concrete but he probably passed while I was standing outside his door.

Both mom and dad have been gone for several years. Dad was taken by cancer in 2000 when I was 15. Mom committed suicide in 1993 when I was 8. My siblings and I were in the house. It was during summer break, I woke up and mom made me a bowl of cereal. She told me I'm gonna go lie down for a while, gave me a hug, and told me she loved me. As she slept my siblings woke up. I made them cereal and we watched cartoons. Then the shots rang out. She put a bullet in the ceiling and in the wall and the final taking her life. I banged on the door, the outside window, the bathroom window. I tried prying the windows open. I could see her lying on the floor. My parents had ugly red carpet in their room which hid the blood. The way she fell I couldn't see anything but her. No pistol, no injuries. I sat with my siblings as they cried and kept telling me that mom was dead. Even though I was terrified of that too I sat there telling them we would figure it out. that she would get up and everything would be ok. Dad had taught me about taking and changing door knobs so I got my screw driver and set to work. The phone rang and it was my aunt. After telling her what happened she hung up on me. I went back to the door knob and almost had it opened when the doorbell rang. As I opened it in swarmed police, the fire department, and paramedics. We were picked up by a friend of the family. My dad came to pick us up. He worked like an hour away and he went to the house first. When he walked up from the distance he looked to be laughing. My heart lifted, it would be ok. When I ran up to him I saw it wasn't laughter but sobbing. All he could say was "mom is with grandma now." 

As I said I've never tried writing it all down. These were some of the worst days of my life and I'm sitting here now reading it and it's infuriating to see it reduced to a few paragraphs. 

Recently my anger has been building again. I'm angry at everyone, my little brother, the people on the street asking stupid questions, the drivers on the road, my dogs, my step daughter for doing teenager things, my wife for not understanding what I'm going through, but most of all anger with myself for being this angry with everyone but most of all for not saving them. I know... that I can't save people from themselves, but he was my baby brother. Aside from my parents I was the first to hold him. I should have been able to do something.   

I've spent years in therapy and still continue. There have been others that have passed due to age or illness but these two haunt me. Recently they have led to several fights with my spouse. She reminds me that its been three years, and it feels like she's implying I should be over it. She tells me that Ive allowed these deaths to become a part of me and that they have changed me. She says that I don't live life. She reminds me when she's angry that she almost called off our wedding due to his death because I was angry. To be fair I don't think she has any idea how to help me. She has lost grandparents due to their age and health but nothing like these. I see a therapist but what I want is to talk about them. To remember them. To tell a funny story about them, even if it brings a tear to my eye. She is right in a sense. They have changed me. I don't think there is ever any going back to the old me that had them in their life. And their deaths are part of me. I love them and its because I love them that this hurts the way that it does. I don't feel like I'm not living. There are times when it stalls and I get lost or when its hard to get out of bed. There are days when I do have to let autopilot handle some of the day. It's hard to feel alone to feel like the people you love most don't care or try to change the subject. And I know it's uncomfortable and that I get angry. I don't know how long it takes to get "better". I am still here, still working, still trying to figure out who the new me is when all the rest of the pieces are put back together.

I hope someone can read this and know that you aren't alone in it all. It takes time. It's been 29 years since I lost mom and I'm still fighting. Thank you for letting me ramble.

[reader]

Dear Don Tony,

Thank you for sharing your experiences with us. Means a lot. x