A Siblings Grief - Michael

Reflections of a Broken Man.

On June 1, 2019 my younger brother, Mark, died tragically from a drug overdose.  I remember picking him up for work that morning.  He was due to be at work at 6:15AM, and so I went by to pick him up at around 5:45AM.  He was not awake.  None of the lights in the house were on.  Mark never woke up late when he needed to work.  Looking back this was a red flag.  I called him several times and he finally woke up.  I told him to get ready because we could still make it in time.  He came out around 6:05AM and we made our way to his job.  We arrived at 6:14AM and he walked inside.  His shift was supposed to last until 1:00PM.

Around 10:04AM he texted me.  He asked "Hey, can you scoop me up from work?"  I replied sure.  I thought maybe his shift ended early because there was no business.  Working in a restaurant is often difficult and for a number of reasons.  My wife and kids were in the car with me because we were going to the parade in town.  We picked him up and he was white.  The boys greeted him, "Hi Uncle Boochey!" And he responded slowly and haltingly, "hey buddies..." He stumbled as he walked.  He slurred his speech.  I looked at him and he did not look well.  This was not the "I am sick" look but rather worse than that. I asked him if I needed to take him to the doctor.  He knew that I knew.  He said "Nah, man.  I just need to sleep this off."  This was not the first time he ever said these words to me, but it was the last time.

We dropped him off, and I said I'd see him later. Then we watched him walked into the house.  He was stumbling but he was upright.  He reached for his keys and unlocked the door.  I thought to myself - He is good enough to open the door - He will be OK.  We pulled out of the driveway and drove into town for a parade.  I would never see my brother alive again.

I saw children laughing and playing.  I saw adults clapping and swaying.  I saw politicians "If I may" -ing.  The juxtaposition of the day and the night, looking back, is palpable.

After we had walked through town a bit and checked out this and that - you know the small town fare - people selling their unwanted goods hoping you will find a good deal on a buried treasure - the church cooking chicken over an open fire grill - the dunk tank and the mayor - the police out and about ensuring the public safety.  I said to Jenn, my wife, that I didn't feel well and that I wanted to go home. She is such a good woman.  She drove me home.

I laid down to sleep around 3 or 4:00PM.  I woke up suddenly in my sleep at 5:30 or so and had a sinking feeling in my gut as though I was missing several heartbeats.  Then I thought of Mark.  Was he OK?  I should check up on him.  Nah, he's fine.  He's probably drinking a cup of coffee or something.  I went back to sleep.

I woke up at 9:35 when my wife came into my bedroom and said.  "Michael, Mark has died."  I sat up. Silenced myself again and asked if she had told the boys.  She had not, and so together we broke the news to them.  My oldest brother had attempted to call me.  My phone was on vibrate which meant I did not answer and out of desperation called my wife.  She was at the fireworks in town with the kids.  She came home immediately.

Then I called my oldest brother.  He asked me to come over.  I did so. He was calm and collected. Two of my cousins were there outside.  My oldest brother's father in law was there outside.  I went in where I found Charlie next to the kitchen sink, and Mark's girlfriend sobbing while speaking with the sheriff's deputy.  I asked Charlie how I could help.  He asked me to take her home.  I did so.

I dropped her off in her hometown about 35 minutes away.  That was an awkward drive.  In that moment I gave Mark's girlfriend the best advice I could.  "Do not ask why something happens in the middle of your pain. Deal with the pain first, and ask why when you are able to handle the question and whatever answer comes."

On the way home I called a former pastor of mine who lives in Australia now.  I have always been able to rely on his advice and counsel.  He prayed with me, mourned with me, and has been a source of inspiration to me particularly in the past few months.  Thankfully 11:00pm at night on a Saturday in New York is 1 :00PM Sunday in Sydney.

These actions were of a man who was trying his best to control what he could around him.  The chaos of that night, and of every night since sears my soul to it innermost.  My brother, who was 17 months my junior, was my partner in crime.  He was my best man when I was married.  He was my confidant when I needed to speak my mind.  He was my comic relief when I was taking life too seriously.  I do not remember a time without Mark since I was so young when he was born.  I do not remember a time when it was not "Mike and Mark" getting into trouble together.  Yet for the last few months I have to remember what it is like to have Mark, and that is a reality I still long to return to someday.  Lord Jesus come quickly.

I am convinced that the heart beats I felt like I was missing that night was a spiritual  bond that Mark and I shared in this world breaking.  No more would I have my best man, my confidant, my comic relief, or my antagonizer. No more would I hear his voice saying my name and the word "stop" afterwards.  Ever more I will miss my brother.