Letter to Bro...life or death?

LAST ONE, I PROMISE, AND THEN BACK TO THE REGULARLY SCHEDULED BLOGGER.

Bro,

I had the worst dream the other night. I woke up in a panicked fear thinking that something had happened to you. That feeling stayed with me all day until I was finally able to speak with Mom. She said you were fine but that earlier in the week you had to go to the ER because of dehydration. Even after I spoke with you on the phone, I felt something was still wrong.

And I was right, wasn't I. You didn't want to tell me that you relapsed again.

We were close. As close as siblings could ever be. Hell, we were closer than most twins. But that all changed.
I'm not sure if it changed when you started drugs or when I started dating "him" or even when I came "out." All I know is that things haven't been the same between us in a long while.

There was hope, after you got over the anger of me being gay, and we actually started getting back to good with each other. But you were so deep in your addiction that I couldn't watch anymore. I couldn't stand by while you took that deadly journey that I escaped from. I confronted you, argued, fought, and at one point...threatened you with a golf club. You had no idea who you were, so fucking high, and no idea who you were fighting. Although you were bigger than me, I never backed down...I swung back and brought you down. And when you cried, I thought you had finally seen what you were doing to yourself, to your three little girls, to your wife, and to your family.

God, I fought so fucking hard for you. I walked you through the withdrawals, holding your hand and feeling your pain. And you had me fooled for a while. I think you had us all fooled.

But that addiction came back with a vengeance. It killed me every time I would wake to the phone ringing at 3am with you on the other end pulling the trigger on that gun. I flinched with every click. I flinched with every deep breath I'd hear. In the background, I would hear Trish crying and pleading with you and I was so afraid those girls were up, watching their daddy hold that damn gun to his head.

Mom wouldn't let me Baker Act you. That so pissed me off. Your wife and kids did not need to see that shit. Do you know the damage you have done to those kids? I nearly fell apart the day your oldest, Jade, told me how she found daddy sleeping in the bathroom, bleeding with a needle stuck in him. I was tempted to kill you myself. And GOD! What if one of your daughters found one of those fucking needles and tried to do what daddy was doing!? Fucking insane!

I'm the one that convinced Trish to leave you. I had to, for my nieces sakes. Do you know how many times Trish (and Mom too) called me up crying, begging for me to do something? How many times I chased you down for her? And all those times, I was sure I would find you dead. I think I've been preparing for your death since the first time you relapsed. God, that hurts!

It hurts because you were my little bro. You were my closest, best friend. You were the only guy I had ever trusted. You were everything I lived for, for such a long time. You were the one I tried to set examples for. I pushed to succeed for YOU. How many twenty year olds own their own businesses and houses? I had to show you that anything was possible. I had to show you that there was so much more to our lives than our fucked up childhood. Because you were my little bro and you meant everything to me.

Then I got that call. The call I had been dreading but preparing for. The call that said you had really tried to die. The call that I was sure was going to say that you were dead. But you weren't, thank God.

And I cried for you...every night.

And they offered you the best help and the best chance for you to recover. I urged you to take it. I begged you to take it. But you didn't. You assured me that you were strong enough but I knew better. You surprised me by making it five months. But this happy ending came to a crashing halt when I got the phone call that you were in jail.

Your birthday was yesterday. I celebrated by seeing your mug shot online. How fucking high were you? Has the drugs worn off yet so that you realize where you are?

Mom says its Dad's fault. Dad says its Mom's fault. I say its YOUR fault.

I've been there for you. We all have. I've spent tens of thousands of dollars trying to help you. I've sacrificed and put it all on the line for you. I've taken the blame. I've cleaned up your messes. I've cried with your children. I've held them while they spilled their worries on me. They shouldn't have to worry about you. They are fucking KIDS!

I can't do this anymore. I can't watch you kill yourself any longer. I hope you stay in jail. I hope that they can give you the help that none of your family could. I don't want you to die, bro. I love you too much. And your girls need a dad. They need you. Its time for you to fix yourself because, really, I think you are just an injection away from death.

Please tell me that you really don't want to die?