This world needs you here.

I'm sorry baby brother

that life was so unkind

I wish I had the power

to hit stop, eject, rewind.

life wasn't always easy

I never found it fair

but, the battle: never solo

I always had you here

at times there was great distance

there were secrets, lies, mistakes

but the beginning that we shared

formed a bond that could not break

our paths were very different

I played the game; you would not

I always admired you for this

though it made me worry- a lot

I knew when I felt fearful

that you felt this fear with me

and when things felt far too difficult

I remembered where we used to be

I knew you felt the same way

that our pain cut way too deep

we both masked our fears with ego

AND refused to claim defeat

we held our breath till we turned blue

to prove a point, to win a fight

we held our hands above the fire

until we heard the words, "you're right"

we would rather sleep out in the cold

then ask someone for help

we knew that being too needy

left you fending for yourself

secrets, lies, manipulation

became the tools to get our way

for when we tried "the right thing"

our loved ones never seemed to stay

we couldn't talk about our feelings

they were too big for us too share

when we had to make them stop

drugs and alcohol were there

we went through this together

crying, "me against the world"

we found refuge in the alcohol

and soon the lines got blurred

we were not sure where 'too far' was

the drugs, they made us feel so safe

but after a while we lost that feeling

and so continued with the chase

we coped through our addiction

not in such a different way

both of us, persistent

fought every fucking day

regardless of our drug of choice

it never was enough

we were willing to do anything

there was no giving up

I hid the pills and drinking

behind a job and two degrees

but spent my nights in misery

wishing death could set me free

I know you felt this same way

I could see it in your eyes

but I also know you fought so hard

and didn't really want to die

I hugged you by the back door

you rolled me a cigarette

I didn't say, "I get it"

and for that I have regret

are you coming home for Christmas?

you said "yes, I'll see you then"

we said 'goodbyes' and 'love yous'

not knowing what we meant

the truth is I wont see you

nor ever speak to you again

the thought of this weighs so much

my lungs start caving in

My legs give way beneath me

I thrash my limbs on cold cement

it hurts so much to say goodbye

not knowing where you went

I don't know how to do this

I don't want to without you

I can't accept you're really gone

I fear I'll never make it through

I tell myself-- Nat, just hold on. 

don't give in, just for today

then it comes, the fog of anger

and I cannot see a way

they tell me anger leads to relapse

they tell me this takes time

then they tell me seize the day

that feeling is no crime

I feel all the the things at once

Then I cannot feel at all

I lay in bed, no will to move

I'm on the floor rolled in a ball

what hurts most? the way they think

an immoral sinner; wouldn't quit

In reality you were trying so hard

aching, shaking- fighting it

you couldn't find relief

from the darkness, pain, and fright

the addiction was an illness

and there was no hope in sight

you were such a thoughtful human

your friends all knew this well

you were generous and giving

you are NOT burning in hell

you were kind and you were loving

we all knew how much you cared

you were so quick to help everyone

THIS. WORLD. NEEDS. YOU. HERE.

FUCK 3.1

Hey Bro,

I have no words for this sadness, this pain that throbs with each breath I take. 

How can I live (sober and kindly) in a world in which you no longer breathe.

Nate, this world is fucking terrifying. I know you know this more than anyone. You're the only human who felt that fear with me-from the day you entered this world. You felt that fear as you fought to stay sober, and you really fought fucking hard. You felt that fear on the day you died.  And now I'm here carrying it alone. 

What's ironic is the drugs saved you long before they killed you. Using was only a refuge from the pain, darkness, and fear. At first it helped us more than anything we ever experienced, it was the ultimate remedy for our broken insides. Finally we had figured it out! How were we to know it would flip a switch inside of us, releasing an endless flood of obsessive thoughts that would wrap around our brains like the red scarf wrapped around our mother's neck- with one mission: gradual suffocation. 

It's weird that I can love something and hate it so much at the same time. That feeling of warmth, safety, and relief is one I'll never accurately put into words. I'm fortunate to have realized before it was too late-that it is no longer attainable, that the chase will only end in jail, institutions, or death. But that doesn't change the harsh reality that life is so much harder sober, and that I've yet to find alternative  remedies for a pain that hurts this bad. I feel even more afraid and alone-now that you're gone. I want to pick up, so I don't have to feel this fear-this deep one that als has no words. 

It's the fear we felt when we were cold and hungry and went days without adult contact and food, the fear we felt when we were taken from our parents and grandfather-the only caregivers we knew. 

People offer words of comfort. Some, they cut like glass..the same glass that shattered against the wall as we hid in the closet as children, covering our ears to muffle the screams. They say "He wasn't a bad kid, he just made bad decisions." "I'm sorry for your loss. How could he be so selfish to choose the drugs over his own family?" "If only he had kept coming to church-it breaks my heart that he chose this ending." These words make me want to kick and scream, and throw my body onto the floor. We were both tantrum extraordinaires.

How can people not see that addiction was a symptom of the trauma we experienced, and the only choice we had? I want to tell them that yes it killed you, but it also saved your life. It saved mine too. The drugs and alcohol were our tools, the only ones we had at the time. God let us down so early, at least the punishing one we were taught to fear. The God we grew up with hated us for being who we were, judged us for mistakes that were never ours, and condemned us to hell before we even developed self-will. 

Addiction was never a choice we made. We chose to pick up that first drink, just like every teenager in our town. But we didn't know about the warm safety blanket that would grip us so tightly, the obsessive thinking that would lead us to seek more and more. We didn't know that we would never get enough. 

We were born with addict brains--and our early life experiences molded them into time-bombs, wired to self-destruct. We chose the bottle, we chose the pills, we chose the needle, but only because there was no better option. It worked when nothing else did. We were only trying to be okay and feel safe, in a world that never taught us how. This wasn't your fault. And it wasn't mine either. And blaming anyone else will not make this pain go away. 

Its feels so unfair that I am here and you are not. I need you to be here.

 I, at least, would like to know where you are? I know it's not hell- unlike members of our family. But where the fuck are you, and when can I join? I don't want to die. I just don't want to feel this.

 ------That's exactly how you felt before you picked-up again. 

I cannot pick-up nor do I want to continue to feel this. But just like that one time you cut the grass, so I could go on that stupid trip with my friends- I will suck it up and do this;feel this~ for both of us. 

Just know that I hate this. And it's really fucking unfair! (You ALWAYS got to go first.)

I know this time it wasn't your choice. Regardless, it really fucking hurts.

Love you,

Sis

FUCK 2.0

Hey Nate,

I have 8 months sober today. I couldn't feels shittier. Today is freezing. When I think of you lying in the ground-it makes me want to pour gin inside both of us. I feel frozen inside- yet boiling at the same time.

Mom and Dad are going through your phone trying to piece together that night. When people say to me that you made this choice, and it was no one's fault but yours- I feel homicidal. I really want to hurt them. I imagine feeling cold and heartless and burning everything around me down. It makes me think of how we killed the neighbor's dog when we were four(two)- that time mom was drunk and let us drive. You always said I wouldn't make it in prison, though. They don't let you wear glitter and their coffee.. is not.

We were supposed to die together when we were 80- jumping from a plane, because being old sucks. This is not how it is supposed to be. Don't get me wrong, I know how much you were suffering, and I am relieved you no longer are. A small part of me even envies you. I just know it didn't have to be this way. And it makes me sad that you can't continue to make everybody laugh and share your stories and creative ideas with the world. 

Kathy said someone told her you had two kids- one who looks exactly like you. I find this hard to believe because I just feel like you would have told Rachelle or I. Either way, the thought of it makes me break inside. You would really make an incredible Dad. Giovanni came to the funeral and brought Gia. She is 6 months now and beautiful. I suppose I'm officially the only sibling without kids- and ironically the only one who religiously read parenting magazines at age 11.

Mom and Dad still listen for the door to open and you to come home. Dad saved half his pizza for you in case you came home and were hungry, and mom longingly glances at the chair on the porch just hoping she'll see you there in your usual spot, smoking a cigarette. I, too, am finding it impossible to imagine a world without you in it. I'm having a difficult time convincing myself it's a world I want to be part of. 

It's good that I don't have the choice to die. And somehow I know you didn't have the choice to live. (I definitely don't believe it was meant to be or that "nothing happens in God's world by mistake" *rolls eyes and mentally flicks off who ever says this*) I just know how powerless you were over Heroin and that you didn't make a conscious choice. Addiction is so powerful and neither of us signed up to have the birth parents we did or this relentless disease. I know how hard you were fighting and how unmanageable your withdrawals were.  Again, I am grateful you are no longer suffering, but at the same time I would bring you back in an instant and undo this if I could.

I wish I knew what to fucking do to make this okay. For now, I will keep existing--and do EVERYTHING I can to NOT pick-up and to ignore these obsessive thoughts. 

Remember when we were having a snowman contest and you and Dad cheated by using a basketball? I thought that was so unfair. You got more hot chocolate and marshmallows than me! That same day we built a huge snow fort and you jumped on the top, pinning me frozen inside. 

That's how I feel now: 

This is smotheringly painful and incredibly unfair.

Love you; hate this

Nat