Lost My Brother to a Fentanyl Overdose

This past November, I lost my older brother to a fentanyl overdose. He was 31. He had an oxy addiction that worsen during the pandemic, escalating to fentanyl use. His substance abuse had started much earlier than the pandemic, but the isolation and the avalanche of legal, financial, and spiritual problems grew heavier. His story ended with him laying on a dirty kitchen floor.

But before that, he LIVED. Self-proclaimed black sheep of the family. He could bond and connect with anyone from all walks of life. I missed my prom after he took the family vehicle out of the blue and decided to help out and transport an undocumented person. He graduated with a Computer Systems degree, studied abroad in Spain, interned in New York. He was a skater from an early age, liked to play the electric guitar. He was funny, bold, cheeky, compassionate. He didn't give a fuck about what you thought of him. He liked going to live music shows, had a couple of hours under his belt to be a pilot, was going to move to the state capital and start a drone business with his close friend. He had a big heart, and a slew of women obsessing over him at any given time. He had so many loves in his life. He liked to volunteer in ESL classes, led many of these himself. He liked finagling with crypto and the stock market. Computer whiz, liked math and history. He liked to bitch about third wave feminism, and had a moral issue with OnlyFans He loved Theo Von

I so desperately wanted to be him, followed him around like a puppy during my pre-teen/teen years. My foundational music taste is derived from his, so is the core of my fashion sense. We could talk about spiritual matters, love, music, family drama, politics. Always gave sound advice.

Some agave plants experience what is called a Death Bloom, where the plant flowers before dying. A giant flower stalk, several feet high, reaches up to the heavens, its final hurrah. My brother's final year, he made sure to jam-pack individual time with us. He rode with my oldest brother on his 18-wheeler across the US for several days, towards a job he had found out in the Appalachian Mountains. He went on a road-trip with my mom to visit her parents. We got front row seats to a Theo Von show and spent the day together. He dog sat my younger brother's dog and stopped by his apartment.

I miss him. The hues of everything are dull, food is meh, not much interests me at this point. My body is an empty capsule that goes through the motions. I don't have a personality. I don't like anything. I'll put on a show to watch and go through the motions of sitting on the sofa and appearing to direct my attention to the tv set. I don't give a fuck about much. Who I thought I was, was scraped off my being. I took it on the chin a few months ago, it knocked me down, and I'm still disoriented from it all. We're all on side quests at this point. My brothers are cheating on their spouses, close to being radicalized by trash podcasts. Mom and dad are in their own world. I'm so alone. The person I considered like a sister to me, ghosted me when this tragedy befell us. And all I needed was a shoulder to rest my head for a couple of seconds. And I was angry, and now I don't care. One more person to lose. Not much matters right now. I managed to get a boyfriend through all of this. He's held space for me, but I'm not all there and this is what he has now, an empty-headed zombie. And I was numb at first, then angry, and now lost. All I can talk about is my brother and how much I miss him. His memory is one of the few anchors I have left to this world.

I will prevail, I guess. No other option.

 

Yes, you can prevail by the grace of God. When someone has lost everything that meant anything to them, they must find a worthwhile purpose to make them want to go on. No other purpose is greater in life than serving and loving God. He loves us so much He was willing to give his life in our place so we could repent of our sins, be forgiven, and come into a close relationship with God. He loves you more than anyone ever could. He is a source of strength, comfort, and healing if we just call on him in the lovely name of Jesus. He gave everything for us. We should never have to doubt his love when we look at his selfless giving of his life on the cross.
I pray you will reach out to God so you can again find an anchor in life.
Don't expect too much of yourself when you have just started this grief walk. It is a slow process of being able to accept that this awful thing has really happened to us. Be good, kind, and patient with yourself . Take good care of your health. Get outside and walk in the beautiful nature God has created. It can bring some peace to you and researchers have found that the air itself is healing. I am sorry for your loss.
Chris

 

Hello Ximenamiki, I just want to let you know that you are not alone. At least for me, the alone time (I prefer to call it solitude) is necessary to process what I'm going through without interference. Sometimes friends and family can be helpful with certain parts of my grief psyche, but most often peace and acceptance only come when I'm doing my 'self-work', being quiet to hear what God might be telling me.

Thank your for reaching out for help. Keep coming back to GIC to share or read others experiences. We're a tough group that has been honed by sorrow.

Peace be with you.
~ Michael

 

I agree with Michael. I really need a lot of alone, quiet, peaceful prescence of God quiet time, but that's just me. Others may feel differently.