- Drugs
I was skimming a website, and the word “heroin” in a post stopped my heart. That’s all it takes.
My older brother died on April 28th, 2011 from heroin. We didn’t care to find out exact cause of death, if it was an overdose or a bad batch, we were just devastated to lose such a great person. He lived 23 years, 6 months and 6 days. To give this perspective, when you were 8 years old, could you imagine that your life was roughly 1/3 over? My little brother (19 at the time) found him in a puddle of his vomit in my dad’s basement. My brother dragged him to the bathroom and tried to give CPR. I got a call shortly after they had taken his body away and learned that he was gone. I got to my dad’s around 2am, and my brother had died an hour earlier. All I found was an EKG lead in the driveway, a puddle of vomit in the basement and my family nearly suicidal with grief. I felt as though I couldn’t breathe, because I knew he wasn’t breathing. The sun was rising, and I wanted to stop it, because it meant I was awake. His death began a nightmare that will never end, until the day I die. That morning I had to drive to my mom’s house, sit her down and tell her her firstborn had died. I later drove her to see his body. I insisted my father see him one last time, even though he said he wouldn’t. He later went alone. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive himself. My brother looked so handsome. He had gone tanning that week, got a hair cut and joined the gym. I touched his face, and he was so cold. I could see where blood had pooled off to the side. I touched his chest and felt a zipper. I pulled back the sheet and realized he was still in the body bag.
This is the reality of addiction.
It is self-destruction that destroys everyone in its wake.
As a family member of someone who didn’t make it out alive, I cannot begin to express how proud I am of people who beat their addiction. My brother was clean for two months, before he died. He was my best friend and the only person who could ever begin to understand me. I was 22 at the time. Our parents divorced when we were all pretty young, and our dad worked a lot, so we raised each other. I felt like I had lost a father, a best friend and a brother.
He had been to numerous help houses, rehab centers and jail, but nothing seemed to help. At the age of 23 he had been struggling for 13 years with his addiction. He was serious about recovery this time. He had papers filled out on his desk for a treatment center. He was going to make it, but he went for just one last thrill.
Drugs are a way to escape reality, dull pain and ease our sorrows. Addicts have their own problems in the first place, but, if I could get addicts to truly realize what they are doing to not only themselves but also their families, I’d do it in a heartbeat. On behalf of my family I want to say that we’re very proud of people who overcome addiction.