To those who have lost a sibling, this article is for you.
On September 1, 2011, I went to my friends house to pick-up my daughter after work. While we were outside talking, I received a call from my mother who informed me that my brother had passed away. My brother was 19 years old.
My brother and I had been very close, ever since we were little. The household we grew-up in wasn't the best, so we had to lean on each other for comfort, guidance, and help. We were always together. Whether we were at the park, or in our rooms, you would see me and him. It was rare that we would be apart.
By the time I was 16, he was living with my grandparents, and I was living with one of my best friends, Emily. Her parents had gotten guardianship of me after I went to spend the night, and I never left. However, even through this hardship and complication, my brother and I remained in touch. I'll never forget the call I received about him being in the hospital.
My parent-guardian mother had received a phone call from my biological mother. My brother was in the hospital, and he had a brain bleed. Now, to give an idea about my relationship with my family back then, he had already been in the hospital for 1 week by the time anyone called to tell me.
My mom handed me the phone, and she stayed with me while I got news that my best friend in the whole world, had brain surgery. I don't cry in front of a lot of people, but that's all I could do, and luckily she was the support system I needed. I will always be grateful for her.
I visited him in the hospital as often as I could, and eventually he was released. However, he had a plethora of medications he had to take. One of these medications caused him to suffer from a heart condition called atrial fibrillation. In layman terms, it is an irregular heart beat that can cause heart attacks, ventricular fibrillation and many other heart-related problems. He took pain medication for it.
On my graduation day, both of my families were there. It was a huge celebration: someone from our family had graduated High School. My house was full, and I was surrounded by those that I loved the most. I was sitting on the couch, and my brother came up to me and said, "Dena, I need to talk to you." We went up to my room, he told me to sit down, so I did. This is when he told me that he had become addicted to his pain medications. That the pain medications he had been using, weren't enough, so he had been taking other things. He was a drug addict, and he wasn't ready to stop.
What do you do when your brother, your best friend, comes forward with such information?
Well, there isn't much you can do. I had been a drug addict before. I've been sober for 9 years. Ever since my parents got guardianship of me, and gave me a choice: Either continue drugs and go to rehab, or stop and we will get you help if you need it. So, I stopped, and I haven't touched anything since that moment.
What kind of a hypocrite would I be to tell my brother, "you need to stop?" I told him I didn't want him to be on drugs around me, and to be careful. This was in May of 2008. August 4, 2008, I left to go to boot camp. I had joined the Navy.
In November 2009, I volunteered to go to Afghanistan. March 2010, I arrived. I had been keeping contact with my brother and my family the best way I could. I'll never forget the message I received from my brother. He had overdosed, and he had been taken to the hospital in his friend's car. His heart stopped.
Luckily, they were able to revive him. This is when my brother came forward and said, "Dena, I'm worried about you. I'm afraid that I'm going to lose you, and I can't live with that pain, so I do it this hard to forget." Thus, the guilt began.
In the midst of serving my country, and saving lives, my brother overdosed because he was afraid to lose me. In the midst of trying to forget where I was, I almost lost him completely. I still feel guilt for going to Afghanistan. I was doing a wonderful thing, yet I was hurting the one person who has been there for me our entire lives.
I returned home September 2010. I was pregnant with my daughter. He was so excited to be an uncle. Every single time I talked to him, he would say, "rub peanut for me." Even after me returning home, the drug use continued. He kept overdosing, and he kept getting revived. Every time I would talk to him, I would say, "Jake, be careful. I don't want to lose you," and every time he would say, "If I was meant to be gone, I would be already." That is the arrogance of an addict. They like to think they're invincible, and that death could never happen to them.
September 1, 2011, my grandparents found him, in his bed, dead. We asked for an autopsy, and he had 6 different drugs in his system. Six.
The day I learned of my brothers death, I was changed. I called my boss, he called his boss, and I was put on leave. My aunt bought me a plane ticket, and I flew home to say goodbye to my best friend in the entire world.
The next couple of days were a blur. I remember his funeral, because I spoke at it. I hadn't cried since I found out. No tears were shed while I spoke of what an amazing person my brother was, how close we were, and while I spoke of some of his friends whom I have known since they were 6. I flew back to Maryland, and continued my life the best way I could.
When you lose your sibling, the pain is different than losing anyone else. I have felt loss before. I have felt loss after. Nothing has ever been as painful as losing my brother. My depression got 100 times worse, once I realized that my brother was never going to come back. My life has not been the same since I got that phone call.
If you have ever lost a sibling, and you're questioning if it is normal for the pain to still be there, the answer is yes. The pain you feel in your heart every time you have a flashback, is normal. The tears that shed every time you smell something that reminds you of them, is normal. Everything you feel, is normal. There is no magic cure to reaching the final stage, which is acceptance. It took me 5 years to finally accept that he was not coming back. It took me 5 years to realize he will never meet my children, and my children will never meet him. It was painful to reach that realization. It was painful to realize that reaching that final stage did NOT mean that I was letting him go. If you're wondering if all of this is normal; it is.
I have had people reach out to me for advice, on how to survive the loss of a sibling. I can't give advice, but I can tell you this: The important thing to remember, is that no matter what your brain is telling you, no matter what, you will NEVER forget them. You will NEVER forget the impact they had on your life. You will ALWAYS remember everything they have ever done for you, and with you. Those that say "It could always be worse," are full of it. For me, that WAS the worst. It still IS the worst. Losing my brother changed me in a way I cannot explain. I am not, nor will I ever be, the same person I was before September 1, 2011. And that is okay.
For those that have lost a sibling, whether it was an hour ago, a day ago, a week ago, or years ago, you are not alone. I know what it feels like, and I know that pain you feel in your chest, and those tears you shed, are real and they mean something. Do NOT try to get through this alone. If you have a family member you can talk to, do it. If you have a friend you can talk to, do it. If you have a mental health professional you can talk to, do it. That pain will never go away. However, in those moments when the pain is too much, and the tears won't stop, reach out to someone who can help you. Write about it. Do NOT keep those feelings in, and do not try to do this alone. I know you think you can, but even if you have someone there to just hold you, do not do it alone. Lastly, remember that everything you're feeling is normal. I'm not going to tell you that "this too, shall pass.", because, honestly, it may not. I can tell you that if you surround yourself with people that you love, and who love you back, the pain becomes lighter over time, and the love they have for you can heal you..Even if it's a little at a time.
I will never be the same. I will never be the same happy person I was before losing him. I've tried, and I've failed every single time. But, you know what? The one thing I can do, is wake-up every morning, and live a life that I know he would be proud of. Try to be happy, try to continue my life for my children, and make sure that my children know how much their uncle would have loved them. My heart will always break, that pain and those tears will always be there. That's what happens when you lose someone who was a part of you. And you know what?
That's okay.
