Today would have been my brother's 40th birthday.
Of course, if you read my last post you'd know that he killed himself about three and a half years ago.
Most of my family gathers at least twice year -- once on his birthday, then on the date of his death -- to visit the grave. My brother loved Budweiser beer, so we all share a Bud with him.
Anyway, I was so mad right after his suicide. Feelings of guilt overwhelmed me: Did I overlook something? Should I have seen the signs? Did I pay attention? I'll never know, though I think the answers were yes.
Like I said, he committed suicide after a serious binge of drugs and alcohol. I decided to do something about it. I wanted to avenge my brother's death.
I've never told anyone this, but: I spent the better part of three months tracking down the dealers that supplied my brother his drugs. I spent every sapre moment I could afford doing this. I was going to kill each of them. I stalked them, learned their patterns, picked out times and places I could do it. It was easy, too easy. One of the dealers was a guy we grew up with. I had planned on doing him first.
Hatred had overtaken me.
I was doing things I would have never imagined, and planning things that were way beyond the realm of what I thought I could do. I mean, I am a good person. I try to do the right thing all the time. I was so conflicted.
As I spent the time tracking down the dealers, I would have conversations with my brother. I know it sounds crazy, but I did. We would talk about everything. (One I really remember vividly was a conversation re-hashing the day my father left. We were playing out in the back yard, and my dad came out and told us he was leaving. We asked if we could go with him -- he was always taking us places. He said, not this time boys. That's it. That's all he said: Not this time, boys. Then he left.)
It was through these conversations that I finally talked myself out of my plan; heck, maybe it was even a message through my brother. Stranger things have happened, I suppose.
I've never told anyone this, as I 've said. It's a demon I've carried with me for three years, probably the biggest demon I've ever had. It feels good to get it out.
As much as I wanted to avenge his death, I'm glad I didn't. It was a suicide, not a murder.
The truth I came to realize is that my brother was responsible for his own death, and I think he helped my realize it through those conversations.
