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I miss my brother


stephanie c

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I don't know exactly what to say. Do we ever? All I know is that our stories have so may sad similarities and my heart is breaking for you. I lost my oldest brother to a drug overdose on April 25 and my second older brother is still alive and struggling with addiction. So much of your story rings so painfully familiar. I have no good answers, but I understand. I feel your pain, and I share some of this same burden with you. I hope you allow yourself some moments of being gentle with yourself. Your life is still precious and still ahead of you. And while the pain, guilt, hopelessness won't just disappear, hopefully you will have moments of joy and anticipation as well. I miss our brothers too. Life is hard and so many people medicate with something, whether it be TV, gambling, food, drugs, etc... unfortunately, our brothers chose drugs to try and numb their pains and paid the ultimate price for it. I will be thinking of you and B.

~Vanessa

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BreathofAngel

Dear Stephanie,

Your pain is great, I know. But you must also know and understand that your brother, B., would not want for you to be experiencing this kind of pain anymore. You see when a person makes their transition into the world of Spirit, they can see things much more clearly there than they could here. He knows what you are going through and the concerns you continue to suffer with and he is sad about this because now in a higher vibration he cannot speak with you or have you see him as before. That is because we vibrate at a much lower rate than those in spirit thus, while they can still see and hear us, we cannot do the same with them.

There is a way to help the situation, however, that has been discussed before. That is to say that if you feel there is something that you wanted to say to your brother or that your dad wanted to say to him but didn't have the chance, you can both sit down and write him a letter saying all that you wish to say to him now. He will receive it in spirit! After you write the letter, read it aloud and know that he will hear you. I know of a man who has a doctorate whose dad passed away many years ago but who told me that he still speaks to him. And that is because Love Never Dies! Those who were close to us or even not so close continue to be with us! Those who have left their physical body immediately step into their Spiritual body and continue living just as God has told us they would. Therefore, there is no "death" as we perceive it. It is only the change in shedding our physical body but we do no longer need it in spirit, therefore, we are much freer in that higher vibration but can still come to visit our loved ones often and can hear and see them in the process!

Grief is considered to be an obstruction to those in spirit! The more grief we experience the less likely they are able to be with us and send us messages we might otherwise be able to receive. That is because grief and anger set up a very strong force-field that impedes their attempts to reach us. When we are able to understand that and can calm down sufficiently enough to be in a "better space" they will be able to send us their subtle messages as well as hear us more clearly!

I am sorry you are going through all of this at this time but know that all happens for purpose, for a reason, and although we do not always understand that purpose or reason, please know that it is in the structure of life itself that we must undergo hard trials in order to realize our greater spiritual growth and understanding of things.

Thank you for coming forth with your heartfelt concern. I know what it is like to experience this kind of thing so please know that I am with you on this.

May God bless you and keep you in His comfort!

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Dear Stephanie,

I cried reading your post. I felt your pain, frustration, and confusion. My brother is not an addict (he was), but he is everything else you described of your brother. My brother suffers from depression and is suicidal, especially when he gets laid off or loses his job...which seems to happen on a bi-yearly basis. When this happens, his lifestyle does not change. He still eats out, golfs, and lives the high life. Then he hounds us for money, and he doesn't ask nicely. He doesn't ask for hundreds, he asks for thousands of dollars. Then he gets suicidal. Then a couple of months later, he asks again. He is in his 40s, and I have dealt with this all of my life. I have paid for his bills, his groceries, cell phone bills, and everything else. I paid for counseling sessions, which he blew off. I have distanced myself from him in the last year, because I felt imprisoned by him. I dread phone calls from him. It always starts out with him wanting money, and if I ask what it is for, he blows up and swears at me. Yet, in the past, I still gave him money. I was enabling him.

What could you have done differently? You did everything you could emotionally handle. Having a sibling who is constantly needing emotional help can be so overwhelming and immensely burdensome. There are days when I have enough strength to tolerate the abuse, and there are days when I say enough is enough. Those days of "enough is enough" come more quickly because I have been worn down. I read your post and wondered what could I do differently now so that I can have minimal regrets if something goes wrong? We cannot physically force them to seek help. We can offer, but if they don't accept it, what can we do? What can we do for them when all they keep wanting is money and not help? You can say you would have done things differently, but would he have accepted or been open to your actions. I am living the situation now, and I am telling you that they outright refuse the help. No matter how nicely I talk to my brother, how he responds to me depends on what mood HE is in. The truth is that I have no control in this relationship...I only have control in what I do. This is where you were...and you were put there not by choice, you were put there because you had no choice. You weren't being selfish, you had to survive. And,you, also, deserve peace.

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franknbrenda04

Dear stephanie c,

I'm so sorry to hear about your loss. I also lost a brother to drugs about 10 years ago. It was very painful watching him throw his life away with drugs.(I may not know exactly what tosay) I want you to know you are in my thoughts and prayers. May God comfort you during this most difficult time. Its not easy losing someone especially someone as close as a brother.many people may not understand the pain you face. But please be assure Jehovah god feels the pain you suffer. the bible say Jehovah is near to those ware broken at heart;And those who are crushed in spirit he saves.May he help you at this time. I would like to share with you another scripture its Revelation 21:4

(Revelation

21:4) And he will wipe out every tear from their eyes, and death will be no more, neither will mourning nor outcry nor pain be anymore. The former things have passed away.”

God promises to wipe away death forever. May this bring you comfort.

I would like to sent you to a website one that has given me much comfort. Here you can find articles that can help comfort you during this grieving time. http://www.jw.org/en (look under publication than go to brochures booklet and you find articles on grief.)

ps, please email at franknbrenda04@aol.com

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Paul murphy
On 14/06/2012 at 8:43 PM, stephanie c said:

My brother passed away 3/13/12. He was only 28 years old.

B was my favorite person, ever. I was four years old, and I remember fantasizing about becoming a nurse so that I could deliver my baby brother. I also wanted to name him sherbert...b/c that was my favorite thing BEFORE my brother came along. When B was born, however, he suffered a cerebral aneurysm and was not given a hopeful prognosis. He stayed in the hospital for weeks. A fighter from the beginning, B made a full recovery and my family was granted very special blessing.

I like to say that I got to relive my childhood as a boy when my brother was born. He and I were inseperable as kids...best friends and playmates. We even opted to share a room. We made mud pies, played with GI Joes and dinosaurs. He loved the ninja turtles, and we spent countless hours acting out scenes from the show and movie. We invented games, and even our own language...which turned out to be awfully similiar to pig latin. I have alot of very happy and fond memories of being young with my brother. I don't have many pleasant memories, or memories at all of the next decade.

My older sister, younger brother and I grew up in a troubled household. My parents were both raised in abusive homes, and despite my mother's best efforts, they created a toxic home themselves. My father is an alcoholic...and has been since the age of approx. 16. Growing up, we didn't know if Dad was going to come home from work and want to take everyone out for icecream, or throw a chair across the room. Alot of the time he came home very late, and some times not at all. I remember peeking out of my window several times each night, looking to see his car in the driveway.

Our mother did an astonishingly good job of covering for my father. As a kid, I thought my Dad was a superhero. Mom couldn't keep up the charade forever though, and things started seeping through the cracks. For me, my father became someone I feared. He had a very nasty bark that you did your best to avoid. He had an issue with practically everything about me, and everything I did. My mother and sister sided with Dad...probably in fear of becoming the focus of anger too. I became a bit rebellious, but not much more than every other teenager around me. I was an honor student, head of the prom and homecoming committees, an officer in the class council and worked a part time job in high school. But, I was also very social and would stay out late and party with friends. My friends were everything to me, and I spent more and more time out of the house trying to avoid the negativity there. And where was B? The poor kid was hiding in his room.

After high school, I jumped at the opportunity to go away to college, and put some serious distance between me and the chaos at home. When I was away, things at home took a turn for the worse. My father's drinking was out of control and with me out of sight, he had to find a new subject for his anger. He became increasily violent and would hurt my mom. Both my sister and my brother were living at home. My brother was only 14, and just going into high school. No one told me what was happening. It would be business as usual when I came home for breaks.

I moved back home for a stint after college. It was only then that I realized how bad things were with my father, and I convinced my mother to file for an order of protection. My brother was 18 now, and she feared that B would no longer stay in his room when the fights broke out. She most feared that B and my father would become physical with eachother. While my sister and brother loved my mother, they held an allegience to our father and didn't want to be involved with having him removed from the house. My siblings and I had tried to have a sit down with our father to discuss our concerns...and it ended with my father getting in my face and telling me that he'd burn down the house, with me in it, before he'd leave. The courts were our last resort.

Living in that house during those years must have been nearly unbearable for B. He was becoming a teenager, and a man, and trying to endure all the difficulties of being in high school...all the while going home to a nightmare. I can't imagine what it was like for him to hear my father hurting my mother...and not being able to do anything about it. He became very detached. He isolated himself from the family and stayed in his room when he was home. I just figured he was like any normal teen who was finding their identity, hanging out with his friends, and wanted nothing to do with his embarassing family...typical teenaged stuff. I had no idea he was using drugs.

My father was out of the house for only a few months before my mother asked him to move back in. I felt betrayed by my mother and decided once and for all that if my mother and father wanted to dig a hole, I sure wasn't going to jump in after them. I knew that I was never going to have the life I wanted if I didn't put some serious distance between the house and me. So, I moved to the city...and, in essence, one again abandonned my brother.

Three years later, my mother finally filed for divorce. At this point, my sister was living with her fiance and my mother was staying with family. My father insisted on staying in the house, and my brother chose to stay with him. B was invited to come live with me, with our sister, and with our extended family. B wasn't interested. Living in a giant house with an absent parent probably seemed like a dream come true for a 21 year old. And unbeknownst to us, B was still using drugs. This new arrangement gave him more freedom to do what he wanted, even if it was bad for him.

The divorce was vicious and dragged along for a long time. We don't know much about what went on in the house during that time. You could never rely on anthing my father said, and B kept his distance from everyone. I do know that B and my father did fight often, though. My mother got the house in the divorce settlement and my father moved out. It was about this time that B told my parents that he had a problem with painkillers (particularly Oxy), and that he was going to "take care of it." My parents were in shock, but let B try to help himself. This went on for months until my mother gave B an ultimatum: Get help, or move out. He moved out, and then into my father's apartment 20 miles away.

The next few years were a nightmare, for everyone. B's addiction escalated, and he started using heroin. We got him to go to detox only once. Because he didn't have medical insurance, we had to take him to the county hospital and wait nearly 12 hours to get him into a bed in the detox unit. Honestly, it was a relief knowing he was in the hospital. He was safe, and for just a bit, we didn't have to be so worried about where he was and what he was doing. That relief didn't last very long though. That night, one of the medications B was given made is blood pressure drop dangeriously low. He fell down and hit his head. When I called the hospital in the morning to make sure they had my phone number, I was told that B had fallen over night and had been moved from detox to the cardiac floor. The doctors could not detox my brother properly becasue of his heart, and B left the hospital as soon as he was able. He also said that he'd never go back.

The nightmare continued, and every day I agonized over B's condition. He was unintereted in our help, and actually quite mad at us...telling us to mind our own business. My father, mother and sister all gave B money. B always had a story about someone or something, but they knew what he was using the money for. They gave it to him anyway. I fiercely disagreed with this and refused to enable B to further his addiction. I could not be swayed...not that I was ever asked. B never asked me for money. He never asked me for help. He very rarely talked to me at all. This was extremely painful, but I believed I was doing the right thing. Truthfully, it is what I regret most now that he is gone.

One night in late January of this year, my sister called to tell me that B wanted to go to detox that night...but he didn't want me around. In fact, he didn't want my sister around either, but our father was too drunk to take him to the hospital. I spent the rest of that night calling hospitals all over the area trying for find a bed for my brother in a detox unit. You see, just becasue you decide you want/need help, doesn't mean its there. Funding keeps getting cut, the # of beds decreases, but the need has skyrocketed over the past few years. That night he was treated at a local ER and sent home...being advised to find a detox facility. Luckily, I had found a spot for him way out on long island, and my brother agreed to go the next morning.

My sister was sure to tell the nurse at the detox facility about B's adverse reaction to the medicine he had received the first time he tried detox. My sister made the nurse write it down on the intake papers in front of her. The doctor administered the medication anyway and sure enough, my brother fell, hit his head, and busted his teeth. We were LIVID. Did he have a CT scan? Did he have a dental consult? But my brother refused to give any of us medical consent...so there was nothing we could do. He would only speak to my father...and talking to my father at this point is like talking to a chimp. The alcohol has completely consumed him.

B was released after 4 days and was referred to out-patient rehab. When asked why he didn't stay at the hospital where they had a 30-day in-patient rehab, B said medicaid didn't cover it. At another time he said they didn't have a bed for him. Point blank, he had no intention of going to rehab.

My boyfriend's father is a dentist, and he offered to fix my brother's teeth for free. I exteneded the offer to my brother because I felt the fall wasn't his fault. B was gracious and said he'd think about it. A week passed before I heard from him. He said he didn't feel right about accepting the help because he didn't know my boyfriend, nor his father. He did ask if perhaps my boyfriend's father could remove the stiches in his chin (another result of his fall in the hospital). I gave my brother the information and told him to make an appointment...and if he wanted me to go with him, we'd have to wait until the weekend. It was another few days before I heard from him again. I was very happy to hear from him because I had been so worried, and I asked how he was and if he was going to the out-patient rehab. He got very angry with me, and told me he didn't want to accept a favor from me becasue I'd hold it over his head for the rest of his life. I was taken aback, but told him to "cut the ****." I told him I had every right to ask about his well-being and whether he was taking care of himself properly. Further, I told him that I had never held anything over his head and never even had the opportunity to do so because he never let me help him before. Things went down hill from there.

B said some very hurtful things, and I was bluntly honest with him about his addiction and what it has done. Ignoring it and walking on eggshells every time he was around was clearly not working. I felt that someone needed to give him a reality check so that he could recognize that the drugs were his enemy, not those who wanted him to get healthy. The conversation went badly, and ended evern worse. And that was the very last conversation I had with B.

Three weeks later my brother was arrested. He was driving irratically, and the cops took him to the station. They called my sister to come pick him up. My sister told the officer that B was an addict. The officer in turn asked if he should arrest B, and my sister said yes. I would have done the same thing. We were desperate to get B help...no matter where it came from. Court appointed rehab was still rehab, you know?

Needless to say, B felt awfully betrayed and was extremely angry. He told my mother and sister that a few years back he had gotten into trouble for selling. He had alot of money then, and hired himself a lawyer who swiftly got B a deal. B said that with this new offense, he was facing real jail time, and had no fancy lawyer to get him off. My brother was near penniless at this point. His addiction had taken over everything in his life.

B was left feeling that his entire family turned their backs on him. He felt betrayed and deeply hurt. His on-again-off-again girlfriend, who he adored, cheated on him with a friend. He was devastated. He had no license, no job, and no money. On March 11th, he was messed up on an assortment of drugs and got into a fight with his best friend. He spent the majority of March 12th begging her to give him a chance to apologize and talk about what happened. He couldn't remember what exactly had happened, but he knew he was out of line and wanted to make amends. She finally got back to him and said they could meet up tomorrow. From his last text message, he seemed eager to meet up with her the next day. But there was no next day.

Before going to bed that night, B told our Dad not to wake him in the morning when he left for work. B had long suffered from insomnia. He told our father he hadn't slept in days, and was going to sleep in tomorrow. Our father obyed his wishes and didn't speak to B in the morning before he left. This is a regret that willl haunt our father for years to come, because when he returned to the apartment nearly 12 hours later B was still in bed...the life having left his body many hours before. It was three months ago...but I could swear it was just last week.

I had just gotten home from work. It was around 8pm and I had had a gruelling day at work. I wasn't even out of my coat when my sister called my boyfriend's phone. It wasn't uncommon for people to call my boyfriend to reach me, because I had a long standing habit of not picking up my phone. He looked up at me from the couch and said "It's not good." All I remember hearing was my sister say "He's dead." There's no need to go in to the details of what came over the next few days...b/c everyone here on the forum has had to bury a loved one.

If I had my choice, I'd be dead too. I have battled clinical depression for atleast the past 10 years...and this is just too much to take. This is too much pain for any one person to endure. I don't want to live in a world that was so cruel to my brother. And frankly, I don't see the point. I don't see the point of anything right now. Rapists and murders get to live, but my brother doesn't. I'm furious, and overwhelmingly so. I'm mad at my father for being a drunk and knowingly allowing B to use drugs and further his addiction. I'm mad at my mother for not being strong enough to leave my father sooner, and thus protect her children. I'm mad at the crooked doctor that sold my brother prescriptions for thousands of Oxy pills. I'm mad at the drug manufacturer, and the DEA for its failure to more strictly regulate distribution. I'm mad at the pharmacies that filled my brother's prescriptions for lethal amounts of painkillers. I'm mad at Medicaid for paying for all those prescriptions. I'm mad at whoever it was that sold my brother the heroin that killed him. I'm mad at B for leaving me here. And I'm most mad at myself.

I could have done more. Everyone keeps telling me that I did all that I could. But in reality, I did nearly nothing because I believed it best not to enable him. But I did little to actually help him. I wish I were a better person. I wish that I would have recognized the damage being done to my brother. I wish I would have put his well-being before my own selfish wants. I shouldn't have kept leaving him to fend for himself. He was my little brother, and I should have protected him. It kills me know the agony he suffered in his life. And I hate knowing that he hated me. He'll never know how much I loved him.

I know that long-term drug abuse alters the brain. And I know that my brother was not seeing clearly or thinking logically. But that doesn't matter. What matters is what he felt and believed to be true. And he believed that we all betrayed him and turned our backs on him.

At night I sit at the edge of my bed and stare at pictues of him. My favorites are from when we were very young...when the world was good and life was fun. He was pure and innocent, and happy. His smile is really something spectacular. And I die a bit more everyday knowingly that I'll never see that smile again. I'll never hear his voice, see his face, or hug him. Sometimes, if just for a moment, I can convince myself that this isn't real...I mean it can't be real because its so wrong and unnatural.

I literally have no hope left. Nothing. I don't give a sh*t about anything anymore. It's all worthless. I've always dreamed of being a mother...and used to talk about it with my brother. I remember being so happy when he once told me I'd be a good mom. I had these fantasies about the future...B would get better, and we'd be the friends we were always meant to be. And he'd be the best uncle to my kids, and we'd be happy once again. Well, its all gone now. I don't have my brother, and I don't plan on having any children anymore. Our family bloodline ended with my brother, and I'm content with that. We have toxic blood...and I wouldn't wish this life on my worst enemy, let alone pass it on to the next generation.

I miss my brother so much I'm willing to believe that people can die of a broken heart. His storm is over, the war is lost and I hope he has finally found the peace he always deserved. I love you B.

hello I'm Paul, I was sitting at my home in thought about my late older brother who passed away over a year ago .sitting here in thought led me to type into the Google machine "I MISS MY BROTHER" when I did your story was the first thing I saw,it was like a mirror to my own minus and plus a couple of parts ..I'm curious to know how your getting on years on ,my bro's death is still really raw to me 

Paul Murphy Dublin Ireland

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Paul murphy

hello I'm Paul, I was sitting at my home in thought about my late older brother who passed away over a year ago .sitting here in thought led me to type into the Google machine "I MISS MY BROTHER" when I did your story was the first thing I saw,it was like a mirror to my own minus and plus a couple of parts ..I'm curious to know how your getting on years on ,my bro's death is still really raw to me 

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