An Open Letter (The Recovery Method)

During my grief therapy, my counselor had me do, The Grief Recovery Method’s Relationship Graph. There are three parts to this method. First you will make a timeline of your relationship with the person you are grieving. Second, you’ll make apologies, state forgiveness’s, and finally write down significant emotional statements.  Third, you will write a letter to your loved one. This blog entry is going to be very personal, it’s going to be hard to do and I’m going to be putting myself, my emotions and my life out there for everyone to view. While some of this is not completely accurate (as I’ve been told by my mother lol) it is how I felt as a child and how I viewed the situation at the time and age I was at. I’m doing this in hopes to not only help myself grieve, but also help someone else. Maybe, if someone sees the struggles that have gone on in my home, my life and in Aaron’s life with drugs, then maybe it will be a small wake up call for them. So, let’s begin with my timeline.

You’ll notice that the positive relationship items are listed on the top and the negatives on the bottom, I’ll go into more depth with them in my open letter. While doing this timeline, it was gut wrenching, I ugly cried through the entire thing. It is very emotional to see our life, or what stands out in our lives, wrote out on paper. (Click the photo to enlarge)

Below is the breakdown of apologies, and there are probably more, along with my statements of forgiveness and my emotional statements. You’ll probably judge me on some of them and that is fine, but I needed to be completely honest or this wouldn’t have worked. (Click the photo to enlarge)

Let’s begin with what is going to be hard for me to do…

Dear Aaron,

               

I want to first tell you, I miss you, I miss being your twin, I miss fighting with you, I miss hearing you tell me you love me. In the 35 years you were mine we shared many things. Some of them positive, unfortunately, a lot of them negative. You always remembered things in greater detail than me, and I was always jealous of that. You remembered the bottles we drank out of as kids and could recall places and activities with better clarity than me. But, there are some things that I do recall in our brief time together.

               

Being born your twin is now the proudest badge I wear, but it wasn’t always like that. I know mom said she had recorded us as babies talking, because we had our own language. I’d say something, in what was gibberish to mom, and you’d get up and go get a toy and bring it back to me. Then you’d say something, and we’d laugh and laugh and laugh. It was our own little world where no one else was invited and only we knew what each other wanted. You were a troublemaker from the start, learning to pinch the nipple on the bottle just right that you were able to squirt the contents out. As mom heard our giggles, and much to her surprise, found us in her bedroom with you squirting grape juice all over her walls. Every first that was had, was each other’s first. We learned to walk together, we learned to talk together, we started school together. As we grew older though, we grew apart. But I do remember what a miser you were with money. You would stash away your allowance and were afraid to spend a dime. I remember going shopping with mom and you’d ask for a quarter for the machine, she’d always tell you she’d give you one, but you’d have to pay her back when we got home. You’d decline and state you didn’t really need it anyways. Even though you were a cheapskate, at such a young age, I remember you surprising me with a get-well gift when I was sick. Although, the contents are fuzzy and I’m probably wrong. I remember a baton, coloring books, candy and a stuffed animal.  Although I know this bothered you into adulthood, I always loved this memory with you. But we use to have this toy room that mom made us clean, and you were such a good cleaner. I would pick up a toy, sit down and play with it, and mom would have to yell at me. All the while you are busting around the room putting stuff way. Mom thought she was getting smart and divided the room in half with the broom and mop and said you had to clean one side and me the other and while you busied yourself cleaning, I’d toss toys over the line when your back was to me.

               

As time went on, we changed, mom had to separate us in classes because we became so competitive on who was the better student and it wasn’t but a short few years later when we started to physically fight each other. It seems from 9 years of age and on, a lot of our relationship was negative. At 11, Jeff left us, on Labor Day, I’ll never forget that day. Him telling us he was leaving, you freaking out. You broke your glasses in half and flipped out thinking you were going to need to get a job because who was going to help mom out. Jeff decided it was better to be your friend and not our father, so at 15 he thought it would be cool, to just drive around with you and drink beer in the car. This was the beginning of the end.

               

Your drinking led you to be violent, mean and just hurtful. You’d come home drunk and throw punches at me, call me and mom every name under the sun. Your addiction gripped you fast and it gripped you hard. It led you to start experimenting with other drugs, now I know you were numbing your pain, but I hated you so much for your addiction. We had to come find you at times, get calls all hours of the night telling mom you were strung out and needed picked up. At the time, I was very resentful of how mom coddled you. I remember coming out in the middle of the night to get you at a A-Framed house and you were passed out on their couch. Mom kept say, “Come on Aaron, it’s time to go” She was softly speaking to you and I was ticked off. I just grabbed you by the neck and lifted you off the couch and was like, “Get the fuck in the car.” You just stood up and walked to the car. I always felt like I had to grow up so fast, because mom was so busy with your problems, I didn’t want her to have to worry about me. At 16 years old, I ended my relationship with our father. His alcoholism and abusive nature was something I didn’t want in my life anymore, and you just yearned for him to be in your life, so you continued on the emotional roller coaster and until your death you always tried to get Jeff and I to have a relationship. I listed that in the positives, not because I feel it was positive, but because I knew your heart was in the right place.

               

During our teenage years you spent a lot of that time going down the wrong path. You fought constantly with mom and I and it caused a lot of tension in the home. You stole from me and you would embarrass me in front of my friends. You came home one night, drunk, and my friends and I were swimming in the pool. You jumped in and lost a contact and you wanted us to find it, in the pool. I kept telling you we aren’t going to be able to find it and you just kept getting angrier and angrier. In the end you ended up chasing me through the house with a knife. I ended up throwing a computer chair at you to protect myself. You were arrested, and spent time in jail, and you received several DUI’s. None of this seemed to deter you from the choices you were making.

               

The connection of twins is undeniable. At 22 I was spending the night at a boyfriend’s house and I had this insane need to go home. I felt like someone was standing on my chest and couldn’t breathe. I left his house and when I got home, you were passed out clutching grandma’s heart medicine. Mom didn’t even know you were home. While we always tend to remember the times we were hurt, or the negative things that happened in our lives. There were some positives in our relationship.

               

You were such an awful gift giver. I mean, really the worst. But I always found it kind of endearing. It became a running joke wondering what you were going to buy us for the holidays and I remember our one birthday you asked me what I wanted, and I told you I wanted round cake pans in different sizes, so I could make tiered cakes, and some baking utensils. I even sent you photos of what I wanted, and you replied, “I’m not a fucking retard, Brandy.” But that birthday came and what I received was not round baking pans, but rectangle Pyrex. I remember laughing the whole way home over this gift. But I do use my Pyrex often. You did always stick up for me though. Even to Jeff, when someone mentioned to him about how exciting it must be for him that I was getting married, and you just laughed in his face and was like, “Yeah, he isn’t even invited.”

               

I wish I could just relive the last 6 months of our 35 years. When we found out you were doing heroin it completely devastated me. I felt so broken. Wondering why I turned a blind eye to your addiction for so long. How did I let it get this far? I felt this need to just help you with everything. Mom and I cleaned your house, it was so freaking filthy. I knew then how bad of a problem you had. We found so many used needles and it made me sick. Sick that you were living like this, sick that I hadn’t seen it, sick that I stayed away for so long. I was so happy when we repaired our relationship, when we started talking every day, you spending the night at the house, spending NYE together. Making jokes with one another.  Even during the sad times when we had to have Spencer put down, you, mom and myself were all together at the vet and even though it was heartbreaking saying good bye to him, we were able to see a little light in that day and we nervous laughed, probably inappropriately while in the vet office. You gave me those six months. I selfishly want more.

               

There is so much I need to apologize for, so much I need to forgive you for. But I barely made it through the list at the counselor’s office and I can’t tell you how hard it was to read the statement, I never realized how much I loved you, until I couldn’t tell you anymore. It’s true, you never realize what you have until it is gone. I took you for granted, I took our relationship for granted, I took our life together for granted. I’m so sorry for that. I’m sorry I didn’t realize how lonely you felt, how hopeless you felt. I wish I would have showed you that you were everything to me. I’m such a fool.

               

Now that I’m older, and at the age mom was when she was at the height of dealing with your addiction. I don’t know how she handled it all. Working 3 jobs, going to college, trying to feed two kids, keep them in school and deal with one who was an addict. She is the strongest person I know. That hits me hard you know?

                I have been battling loneliness myself lately. I was so sad that I had to face that speech alone with just Shane, that no one was showing up to support me. It broke my heart. Thankfully, I did have two people show up for me, and I don’t know if they know how appreciated I am to them for that! Someone told me something the other day and it kind of put it in perspective for me, they said, “Brandy, you’re so strong on the outside that I think people forget how broken you may be on the inside.” But I’m a survivor, it’s what I do, even alone and at that moment I realized I need to stop expecting me out of other people, because I’ll just be disappointed.

                Aaron, I love you, I love you so much that the grief of losing you seems so consuming. I forgive you Aaron, for everything, for your addiction, for the hurt, for the pain. I FORGIVE YOU.

                                                                                                                Your twin for eternity,

                                                                                                                Brandy

Half a Year

Today is 6 months…6 bloody months since you have gone. I think about you constantly, but not so much with such despair as I used too. I still feel the emptiness where your life once resided within me, but that’s something that will never go away. The anger has slowly dissipated, and unfortunately, I’m moving into acceptance. Acceptance that I’ll never hug you again, acceptance that I’ll never speak to you again, acceptance that I’ll never buy you a Christmas gift again, acceptance that I will no longer share a birthday with you again, acceptance that I’m a twinless twin.

Reaching acceptance is vital, for me, for my life, for my sanity. I replay that moment every day, I hear mom's voice telling me you are gone, I hear myself screaming, it's a constant loop inside my head. It doesn’t mean I still don’t cry myself to sleep at night sometimes (or the fact that I’m crying as I write this). But I had to accept the choices you made, and I have to accept that there is absolutely nothing I could have done to save you. Though, I have wished a thousand times to bring you back and I’ve bartered and begged to make this just a nightmare that I can wake up from instead of this now being my life, I have to accept that it is.

6 months….

So much has happened in 6 months (half a year), yet I still feel like I just got the call saying you were gone. My life has changed, I’ve changed, my relationships have changed, my heart has changed. I’m no longer the girl I was before February 18, 2019 at 11am. Your death taught me life is just too damn short, too short to be wasting it on people who use you, too short to waste it on materialistic stuff, too short to not make the best out of every moment, too short to not be going on adventures and too short to be worrying about where you stand with people and their opinion of you. It’s insane to think how in one second a simple phone call can change the trajectory of your life. In one little second my entire life changed, right there and I didn’t even realize it at the time.

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You have visited me, I know that. In dreams mostly, especially in the dream with the eagle, I know it was you and I know you knew I needed you then. I’m sorry I don’t visit your grave often, but, it’s very hard for me to stare at your name on your stone and it feels like someone has this grip around my throat and I can’t catch my breath and I need to run and the further I get away from your grave the less the grip has on my throat and more air that is reaching my lungs.

I’ve dreaded today, more so than any other month. For some reason 6 months seems monumental to me. Like, how the hell have you been gone for half a year already and also, DAMN IT, in only a short 6 more months I’ll need to deal with it being a year. In another 6 more months I’ll need to remember your death and try to celebrate turning another year older without you. Why did you have to die the day before our birthday? Like, of all the fucking days! It feels so cruel, like a joke that’s being played on me, that for the rest of my life I’ll need to remember your passing and then pretend to be happy I’m growing old without you.

I started grief counseling, because, well, to be honest, because I cannot understand how to disconnect my life from yours/ours. The connection our souls had, being twins, is so unimaginable to those who are not. But I have never had just my life, it is always ours and I honestly don’t know how to be just me. It’s weird that my entire life I’ve always been addressed as Brandy and Aaron, oh the twins, etc. Now it’s Brandy (with pity), the twinless twin.

Pastor Lee spoke about dashes at your funeral, the dash that is in between our birthday and our death day. The importance of filling that dash with great memories, with great love and with kindness. To lead a life you are proud of.  I hope that I’m doing just that, spending my dash with a life that makes you proud. I have loved you since conception…I’ll never stop loving you, I’ll never stop missing you.

The Dash Poem
By Linda Ellis

I read of a man who stood to speak
at the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on his tombstone
from the beginning to the end.

He noted that first came the date of his birth
and spoke the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time
that he spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved him
know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not how much we own;
the cars, the house, the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
and how we spend our dash.

Grief has made me different

On this third month of learning to live without you, I’ve realized; it’s May, the fifth month of the year. While it seems like it is flying by, it also feels like it’s only the 5^th month of the year and yet an entire lifetime of stuff has happened, in such a short amount of time.

I created this blog, so I could share your story, share my grief. But also, for honesty, and for myself. So, if I’m being honest, I absolutely hate existing without you. I’ve become so good at pretending I’m fine that I’ve begun to fool myself.

I’m so bloody angry, at everything, all the time. I hate that. I hate feeling so outraged over everything. In just 3 short months, I’ve been on an insane roller coaster of emotions. I’ve learned so much as well. So much about who truly cares about me, and surprisingly Aaron, family doesn’t guarantee that. I’d say probably about a handful of people still ask about you or ask about me. The rest have moved on, they’ve forgotten I’m hurting, or they just don’t care that I am. I’ve checked out though, emotionally. I’m done catering to others when they weren’t there for me when I needed them. Maybe I should have learned that lesson a long time ago.

They never tell you how lonely grieving is. How incredibly invisible you feel in a crowded room. Like, here I am completely shattered inside, and no one can see it any more.

Your house is nearly empty now, and it’s up for sale. It’s a double headed sword, I’m so exhausted from spending almost every weekend there cleaning it out, but I know when it’s sold that’s when the shoe is going to drop, and my world is going to come crashing down again. It will be the last material thing I have that connects me to you, and it will be gone.

I’m still planning on doing something in your name, I just haven’t figured it out yet. I need to sit down, do my research and figure out where to even start. Mom wants to start some form of grant in your name for drug awareness. She wants to make sure no other family has to feel as broken as we do. Cause no one deserves to feel the constant pain we are in on a daily basis.

Oh, I’m in pieces, it’s tearing me up, but I know a heart that’s broke is a heart that’s been loved.

On Your First Mother's Day

Dear Mom,

                I have wished a thousand times I could take away your pain, to turn the clocks back to February 17^th again. On your first Mother’s Day without Aaron, I want you to know how much you mean to me. I owe everything I am to you. You taught me what it is to be strong, to stand up for what is right, and to be gentle with other people’s hearts. You showed me what it was to be selfless, to give back, and to be grateful for what I have. You taught me to have a backbone, but also some humility too. I learned my sense of humor from you, as well as this mouth. LOL.

                Life has thrown a lot of curve balls at you, and you’ve handled them with grace. The greatest gift and lesson you gave me was watching you do whatever you could to take care of your family.  You worked multiple jobs while putting yourself through college and you still graduated with honors. I silently watched you struggle, wondering where you were getting the money to pay bills and put food on the table. Not once did I ever hear you complain. While I may not have had the same material items as other kids, I never lacked in love, support and encouragement. Because of that I grew up to be an independent, confident, hard working woman and I owe you all the thanks.

                I read a blog on Bereaved Mother’s Day and this one paragraph made me think of you. “My daughter’s death led everyone to tell me, “I couldn’t do it,” …as if child loss fell to my family by choice. But if I’m being honest, I didn’t even know how I was doing it. What was I to do? I didn’t will my own death…even though every bit of me wanted to be with my baby. Irrationally, I felt like a less-than mom for surviving the unimaginable. My love for my daughter felt unintentionally lessened by these meant-to-be innocent words, and I felt as if there was something wrong with me that, although my heart was already crumbled into fragments, I was still capable of living and breathing while my daughter was not.”  (Source:https://www.scarymommy.com/grieving-mom-bereaved-mothers-day/)

                Don’t ever feel you need to explain your grief, you have every right to be wrapped up in the sorrow that you are feeling. DO NOT ever feel you are lessoning yourself to me because you can’t be fully yourself right now or probably ever. You have dealt with a loss that no one can understand unless they have buried a child. Don’t let anyone make you feel like it is time for you to move on.

                While I know that I won’t be able to take the pain away today, I hope that you can have some form of joy in knowing that you were the best mother a child could ever hope for. Your endless love and commitment to not only me, but to Aaron as well out weighs all the treasures in the world. I could only hope to be half the woman you are. I love you and I hope that you have a wonderful Mother’s Day, because out of all the mothers, you deserve it most of all.

Despair...

There are so many emotions, so many unpredictable emotions surrounding grief. I’m so angry, angry about everything, I’m angry that you are gone, I’m angry that everyone has moved forward, and I’m still stuck on February 18, 2019. I feel so extremely lonely. No one messages me and asks me how I’m doing. No one calls to see if I need to talk or need to get out of the house. It’s like it never happened to the rest of the world and I’m over here fucking drowning in despair. 

I guess I never expected the loneliness I’d feel after losing you. It makes me resentful, it makes me jaded, and it is closing me off. I just want to scream, scream at you for leaving, scream at God for taking you, scream at everyone who has forgotten you, forgotten me, forgotten mom. I want to punch something, anything, I’m just so blinded by rage.  I’ve never spoken this aloud, but, I’m SO MAD AT YOU RIGHT NOW! I’m so mad at the world, so mad at our so-called father, who, get this, blocked me on Facebook because apparently, he can’t take the heat of dealing with his own faults. I blame him, Aaron, for a lot of the pain you faced, for the pain you were trying to numb, and I blame him for your death. I’ve forgiven him for a lot of his mistakes, for what he did to mom, for what he did to us, but I WILL NEVER forgive him for this. I hate him, I hate him more than I’ve hated anything in my life. I hate that I must share my grief with him, I hate that I must share my grief with anyone. It’s an odd feeling, feeling so selfish with you, like you belong to me and I don’t want to share you with anyone else.

I wonder if my grief would be different, if you weren't my twin. If you were just my brother, with years separating us, would my grief still be this crippling? Or would it be much easier? I’ll never know of course, because you are my twin, you are half of me and you are dead and that makes half of me dead too. Not only did mom lose her son but she is losing half her daughter too.

I’m so sick of crying at my desk like a lunatic. Quietly sobbing, hoping no one can hear me. I just want things to be back to normal, I want to laugh without faking it, I want to enjoy the sunshine again, I want to look forward to things that are coming, but, I CAN’T! I can’t freaking stop this pain, I can’t stop this loneliness. I can’t stop this need for you. A part of me wonders, is that what you were chasing, was that what it was like for you? Is this what it felt like for you, the need for that fix? God, I hope not, this need that can never be filled, it’s just plain AWFUL. It breaks my heart wondering if this is how you felt. Like, I should have done more…I SHOULD HAVE DONE MORE!

I wish I knew if you could hear me, if you could see my pain.

Dear Aaron

             

               Today marks 2 months since you have been gone, 2 months of complete sorrow, 2 months of complete loneliness, 2 months of heartache, 2 months of crying, 2 months of anger, 2 months of denial, 2 months wishing you were here, 2 months of wishing things were different, 2 months of crying myself to sleep, 2 months of praying to see your face, 2 months of wondering what I could have done differently, 2 months of emptiness…2 months.

                I think constantly of all the things I have wanted to say to you, the many times I’ve wanted to call you, all the times I wanted to tell you I loved you, all the times I wondered if you even knew how much you were wanted, all the times I wanted hug you, all the times I wanted to tell you something funny, all the times I wanted to hear your laugh, all the times I needed you…all the times.

                I wish I knew what plagued you, what I could have done different. I wish I knew if I could have saved you, I wish I knew the pain you were trying to numb, I wish I could have taken that pain away, I wish that pain was on me and not you, I wish my love would have been enough, I wish mom’s love would have been enough, I wish I had lived closer to you, I wish I still had you, I wish I could turn back the clock…I wish.

                I’ll never understand why the plan would be to take you from this world. I’ll never understand why things couldn’t have been different. I’ll never understand why you made the choices that you made. I’ll never understand why you couldn’t see you were enough…I’ll never understand.

                I have so many questions. Did you know that I loved you? Did you love me too? Why didn’t you call me? What made you slip again? Was it my fault because I yelled at you on Friday? Why did you have so many dang flashlights? SERIOUSLY, we are cleaning your house and there is an insane amount of flashlights. Were you proud to be my twin brother? Were you happy the last six months we got together? WHO WAS IT? Who sold you the drugs?

                God Aaron, my heart is so empty, it’s so broken. I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay again. I feel like there is absolutely nothing in this world that will ever take away the constant pain I’m in every single day. I play it good though, I’m sure you can see that. I walk, I talk, I laugh. But I’m completely dead inside because the most important piece to my twin puzzle is gone. I’m in a weird limbo, I’m numb, but also in denial, also in acceptance, also in pain, also in anger. I have zero clue how I’m able to function every day, I have zero clue how I’m supposed to get up in the morning, I have zero clue how I’m supposed to sleep every night. I have zero clue about anything. Life was supposed to be different. There are things I’m feeling that only you will understand. I have this guilt, like I’m not supposed to be alive anymore because you aren’t here, I have this insane anxiety like at any moment I may drop dead. I know to anyone else they aren’t going to understand what I’m even talking about, but I know you know. I joined a Twinless Twin support group, they get me, they get me like you would have. I’ve been told that some twins suffer survivors guilt, almost a PTSD after losing their twin. I’m afraid that something is going to happen to me, I know that sounds insane, but you know how our lives were, if one got hurt a week later the other one got hurt in the exact spot and that frightens me. I have so much regret, so many missed moments with you. I regret we didn’t have more time together. I regret not telling you more how much I loved you. I regret not visiting more. I regret not calling more. I regret not hugging you more. I regret that I didn’t do more to save you. I took your life for granted, like we had forever and a day to make moments together, to make memories together, to take photos together. I was supposed to have you grow old with me. I wasn’t put on this earth to celebrate my birthdays alone, I was brought into this world WITH you, I’m not supposed to be carrying on without you.

                I hope you are visiting me often, I hope you see how much you were to me, I hope one day I can feel you, I hope one day I can remember your face again, I hope one day I can smile without faking it, I hope I am able to make a difference in your name, I hope your story saves some people’s lives, I hope your story helps change something…I hope.

                I love you so much twin…you are half of my heart, half of my soul, half of my life, half of everything…

                                                                                                                      Until our story meets again,

                                                                                                                      Brandy

The Day My World Collapsed

February 18, 2019 – Also known as, the worst day of my life. The day is a blur, I remember screaming, telling my mom that it was okay, everything is okay, he was fine. The ambulance would get there, they would administer Narcan and he would be fine. Then I blacked out.  

Flash back…

July 21, 2018 – My brother had a large bubble on the inside of his elbow. I had asked him what the heck it was, and he simply replied that it was an infection from a spider bite. I kept telling him he needed to get it checked out and get on some antibiotics. That evening my mother took him to the ER to get some medicine for the infection, thinking it was only a spider bite. This was the day we found out my brother was doing heroin. The infection was from a dirty needle and not the spider he had told us it was. I kept texting my mom that evening, asking her how it was going at the ER, she wasn’t responding, and I was getting upset. I was at a surprise birthday party and unable to go with her. The moment she told me it was heroin, my entire world collapsed. My brother had been an addicted for 20 years, it started out at 15 with alcohol, then pain killers, then pretty much anything. But it was never heroin. I was always able to disassociate myself from his addiction. I was hardened to it, figured that’s his life, he needed to grow the heck up. We were 35 years old, time to be an adult. But heroin, heroin was different. I couldn’t disassociate my feelings, I was missing work, not sleeping, arguing with my husband and just plain sick over it. Why? Well, because heroin is the end game. There are only two options with heroin, get clean or die and burying my brother wasn’t an option. Not in MY family, because this doesn’t happen in MY family.

Flash forward…

February 18, 2019 – it happened, it happened to MY family. He was gone, I was alone in a world filled with people, I was a twinless twin.

I came to, standing in the shower, screaming at the top of my lungs and shaking. Someone was shaking me. I blinked several times and my husband was shaking me screaming my name. I felt like I was on a cloud, just suspended in time, in a dream. On the way to my brother’s house to meet my mother, I kept repeating that it was all okay, he was fine. My mom called me and asked if I was on my way and I kept telling her to calm down, that the ambulance was going to be there, and things would be fine. She said, they are here, it isn’t fine, he is dead Brandy. But he couldn’t be dead, I still felt him, alive, I could still feel his heart beating inside me. I was still alive, so no, no, he wasn’t allowed to be dead.

Flash back…

July 22, 2018 – My mom and I went and cleaned my brother’s house, get him on the straight and narrow. He was getting set up at a clinic, he had a sponsor now. This is good, this is all going to work out! I had my twin back! We were going to be the best of friends. From that moment forward, we talked almost daily, he came to my house to spend the night, hung out with mom and I. We spent our first NYE together, all of us. It was the best NYE I ever had. We were a family again. This is amazing, I missed this.

I called my brother one day after work, he was with a coworker waiting for my mom to get off work to take him home. See he was working at the same construction company as my mom now. He had an excellent job, with a retirement plan, with a steady paycheck. He was getting caught up on bills. Man, his life was turning around. But he said something to the coworker that brought me to tears. He said to him, “No man, this is my twin sister. She’s cool as shit, seriously.” My brother never said stuff like that about me, he’s called me every name in book when he was messed up, threw punches at me when he was drunk, and told me he hated me. To hear those words meant everything to me.

Flash forward…

February 18, 2019 – My mom called me and told me Aaron was a no call/no show at work. Where the hell was he? He wasn’t answering his phone, it was going straight to voicemail. I kept calling and calling and calling. I messaged Jeff, my “father”, to see if he could go check on him, he wouldn’t. (SHOCKER) My mom finally got ahold of his ex-girlfriend who was his daily ride to work in the morning. She said she had been pounding on his door in the morning but had to leave and take her son to work, figured she’d go back and see if he was awake and would take him in late. When she arrived, he still wasn’t answering, my mom told her to break down the door, a window, anything, just get inside. She finally got inside…

Flash back…

February 15, 2019 – I didn’t know it at the time, but these would be the last words spoken between my brother and I. Me: “So, what have you been up to since no one has been hearing from you lately. I know you are at the office…so what are you up too? My gut is telling me something is up. But you don’t talk to anyone anymore. So…” Aaron: “Whatever, had a bad week I don’t need any more shit.” Me: “I’m not giving you shit. You can hate me. Be mad at me. I don’t give a crap. But I will do what I can to keep you alive and make sure you aren’t falling down that rabbit hole again. And if that means asking you what the heck you are up to. I’m going to do it.” He never responded. He never will respond.

Flash forward…

February 19, 2019 – Our 36^th birthday. I was planning my brother’s funeral on the day we were born, the day we were supposed be celebrating, TOGETHER!  I turned 36 years old, alone, he will forever be 35. I can’t compute that, it doesn’t make sense to me.

…….

Monday will be one month, one horrible month since I found out Aaron was gone. Nothing much has changed, I’m still stuck in this horrible loop of denial, realization, denial, acceptance, denial, complete anguish, denial. I’ve lost before, I’ve buried friends, family, loved ones. Grieving isn’t new to me, this, this isn’t grieving, this is my new normal, the pain that I will constantly be in. Losing a twin is completely different than losing anyone else. The other half of my soul is dead, and I feel that, I feel the emptiness in my heart. I breathe, but I never feel like it’s a full breath. This is what I now need to get used to. There are moments in my life where I feel like I’m at complete peace, like, I never have to worry about him. Is he eating? Is he strung out? Is he healthy? But that peace turns to guilt, like, I shouldn’t be allowed to be happy anymore, you are no longer allowed to feel the joys of the world because the other half of your life is dead, and you are not allowed to enjoy life from here on out. It’s a weird existence watching everyone live normally, go to work, make dinner, meet with friends, smile, and laugh. When none of that feels normal anymore to me. I feel completely broken inside, like the pieces don’t match to the puzzle that created me anymore, there are too many missing pieces, broken pieces, mangled pieces to make a complete puzzle so it will forever be incomplete From the time of conception, I knew this person. I felt his breath when I would breathe, I felt his heart beat when mine would beat, I felt his touch when we would move. I knew him, every aspect of him, before anyone knew us, before I knew myself, I knew him. I watched him be created as I was being created. We grew fingers and toes together. I knew it would always be us, never me, never just me, ALWAYS us. Born one blasted minute apart, me first, I’m the oldest, and I never let him forget that. I hated being a twin, I’m going to be honest about that. I believe everyone who’s a twin goes through that stage. You share everything. Nothing is ever about just the one person, it’s always the two of you. Be careful what you wish for, because now, it is just me and I hate it. I would give up everything, anything, to share my birthday with him again, to share everything with him again. I’m an only child, an only freaking child. I don’t have any siblings, it’s just me, AND I HATE IT, I FREAKING HATE IT! There is a saying, “He’s half my soul and half my heart; without my twin I’d fall apart.” It’s true, I’m falling apart, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know if I want to be fixed, being fixed makes him gone and I refuse to let him be gone, gone from me.

Growing up you always have a vision of how you see your life going. It never pans out the way you think. I was going to be married in my twenties, I was. We were going to have children, wonderful children, my brother was going to be sober and an amazing uncle. I didn’t have children, I can’t have children, and my brother didn’t get to be an amazing uncle. I was going to have this amazing job, this amazing house, this amazing life. I do have a job I love, I do have a house, I do have a life I love, but now it all seems tainted, with sorrow, with pain, it all seems useless.

I want people to see the pain that is left behind, an addict doesn’t just die, they leave behind an unimaginable amount of pain to the family that unconditionally loved them, would do anything for them, would fight for them. I want people to see who an addict is to the family that loved them. They aren’t this bad person by the choices they make. My brother had a huge heart, he would do anything for anyone, he had one hell of a work ethic and would help any coworker without being prompted to do so. If it needed done, he did it. So, he was an addict, it’s a disease, I refuse to let him be defined by that.

I now have this new vision, to not let my brother’s death be in vain. To share his story, his struggles, his life with the world. Maybe his story, my story, our story will help one person, two people, three people. I don’t know, anyone, help anyone. Then maybe his death won’t be so hard for me. There needs to be a change in the way we see addicts, the way we approach the opioid epidemic. Lives, most to young to be gone, are being lost daily. The disease is affecting everyone. You are not immune to it, no one is immune to it. Please help me, help me share his story, my story, our story. Share this blog post. Help me make a difference in someone’s life.