Losing My Brother...

I will be the first to admit that this is not quite the "Blog Comeback" I had in mind when deciding a few weeks ago to become a more dedicated blogger. However, this is one of the most important experiences I will share- and one of the most private and painful too.

My brother would have been 42 on July 20th. Sadly, he passed away just a month ago. Let me start by telling you a little about him:
My brother struggled with drugs before he was a teenager. But he was so much more than his addiction. He was hilarious. He had a sense of humor that only his friends and people close to him understood. He had a contagious laugh that would fill a room and a crazy look that would scare you to death. He was everything tough, and feared few things. He loved music. Check that. He loved LOUD music... the kind that you could feel in your chest that would have the neighbors complaining in the early hours of the morning. My brother said what he meant and meant what he said. You never had to wonder where you stood with him. He was also loyal to the bone. He would do anything for anyone. More times than not, he was more generous than most. He would give money or food to anyone who asked. He didn't care why you were asking for it. None of that mattered to him. I think that was the part of his addiction that made him compassionate to others who struggled. And the one thing I loved the most about him was his incredible ability to forgive and let go.

I'm also going to tell you that my brother was no saint and he was far from being an angel. You loved Charlie because he was a good guy who happened to be crazy. Seriously, there will be stories about him for many years to come! When I was 15 and first moved from FL to CA, I was asked out by a grocery store clerk and when I told him my name, he asked if I was related to Charlie. When I proudly told him that he was my brother, he quickly let me know he doesn't mess with Charlie's family and wished me all the best. And that was the end of that! I can go on and on with stories of the battles with the Sheriff and M1000's, or jumping off the cliff at Lone Tree Point and busting his face because he seriously miscalculated the water depth. Or that stupid tattoo he put on his lip shortly after. Or that Fourth of July at Lone Tree Point where he burnt the hillside with his home made rockets. Or the time he dislocated my shoulder by tossing me on a mattress. Or the night he tried to teach me about CB radios or ham radios, or whatever the heck he was talking about. Or when Charlie jumped into Jerry's truck bed... while we were driving on Parker Ave. Or how I met Jerry through my brother 19 years ago. It didn't take long for me to see how my brother got his reputation and it was only a matter of time when all the stories of my brother became well known to me.

He was my brother and in spite of his craziness and all the personal demons he battled, I got to see the softer side of him. I got the nights when he needed to talk to someone, he would just show up at my home in the wee hours of the morning. He wasn't the brother that called on my birthday or sent cards for Christmas. And up until last year, I didn't even realize how much those things meant to him until after I missed his birthday. He actually called me to ask me if I forgot about him. True story! So this past year for Christmas, I sent him all the pics and cards I thought would annoy him to no end. And whenever I knew he was in the hospital, I would spend as much time with him as possible there. He didn't like to be alone so having company was the only way to make sure he didn't do another hospital break! More recently, he called me after one of the last times he went fishing. Even though it took him over two hours to make it just a few blocks, he was happy he got to go. He loved fishing and was sad that his legs kept him from going. I'll never forget the sound in his voice before we said good-bye that left us both choked up. How was I to know that was the last time I was going to talk to him?

My brother had been sick for a long time. A lifetime of drug abuse caused irreversible damage to his body. He'd been in congestive heart failure since 2007 and in 2010, it became painfully clear that his time on earth was quickly coming to an end. Yet, he made it a few more years. Our relationship suddenly changed from a casual "hey, I'm hungry... watchu making, I'm comin' over" to "Sharon, we're all dying. Some of us sooner than others" and eventually to, "So what makes your God so different? And why do we live just to suffer, then die?" We had those tough conversations about how he wanted things to happen in the end. I asked those hard questions because no one else would. I did my best not to fall apart when he shared his fears and his regrets. I got to pray over him and with him. My brother was lost in this world and I never knew just how lost he felt until our last time together. We were sitting on his front porch and he was completely broken, in pain both physically and emotionally, and for the first time, I saw him reaching out. One of the greatest things he did for me, was have a very candid conversation about his life in front of both of my boys. He wanted them to see what a lifetime of bad choices cost him. I am grateful for this selfless lesson, but I was heartbroken that I didn't realize his choices were a result of hurts that he never got over. Those are not my scars to share,  but for the first time I realized: some choices aren't just made for the reasons I thought they were. Rather, some lifestyles are born in attempts to relieve the pain that some wounds, when never healed, begin to break down the soul. And bad choices made over and over again are just too hard to overcome by someone who has no hope.

I was fortunate to have many chances to talk with my brother. I was able to tell him at every opportunity that I loved him. Fortunately, there wasn't anything left unsaid between us. I loved him and I knew he loved me.

Unfortunately, these last few weeks have been filled with more pain than just my brother's death. There are tragic circumstances around his passing that have been devestating but that were easily avoidable. The personal attacks from certain individuals have hindered the grieving process for me. As if death wasn't hard enough to deal with, this painful experience doesn't stop there. Nor did it begin there.

I learned that my brother was in the hospital by an innocent Facebook post. After several dead-end attempts to connect with family who was actually with him, I learned that he was intentionally isolated. Attempts to contact the hospital led to the painful discovery that no one, outside of the two individuals there with him, would have access to him or any information on him. It was a bitter battle with lead nurses and hospital case workers over the next few days only to learn that once my brother was incapacitated, the family that was with him, acquired complete control over every aspect of the remainder of his life and his arrangements beyond.

My brother was very specific in our last conversation about what he wanted and didn't want. I asked him to have our discussion notarized. To him, this thought was ridiculous as my brother truly believed that when the time came, these same two individuals would have enough integrity to make the right decisions. How tragic for all involved that this couldn't be farther from what actually happened. There were several medical procedures that were done or planned, that were never supposed to even be considered. There were several attempts trying to understand why I, along with other family members, including our mother, couldn't know anything or even be there with Charlie.

Among the many things that happened to him before he passed away, he feared most, being isolated. He didn't want to die in a hospital or on life support and above all, he wanted to be with the people who loved him and with those he loved. None of us got to "kiss his face a thousand times" as that choice was ripped from all of us. Ultimately, it was taken from the person who mattered most. The man who lay there dying. My brother.

I found out my bother passed away via text messages from several people who were asked not to tell me (or others in the family). Even a month later, I still don't know exactly which day he passed away or even how he passed away.

While sitting on his porch last summer, my brother told me he wanted to be cremated and have his ashes spread behind the rock wall in Rodeo which was his favorite fishing spot. Unfortunately, his first choice of being taken up in a rocket ship, then spread out into outer space was not available. He never wanted a funeral as the thought of people crying over him made him sick, so I was neither surprised nor sad about being prohibited from attending a secret funeral and private burial that he never wanted in the first place. Although I know that his soul is not there, my heart is extremely hurt about not being able to visit his final resting place. I learned after contacting every cemetery in the area that where he is at, I will not be allowed to visit his gravesite "as per the family's wishes", according to their staff.

It is tragic that my brother's last moments were surrounded by such greed and hate. These individuals made the choice to participate and/or enforce my brother's isolation while playing the "victim" in all the drama that was created. My brother was stripped of a proper farewell with those last precious moments stolen from him as well as so many of us. I won't speak on any other family member's pain as their story is not mine to share. I know in my heart that I am going to make it through. I also know I will never fully heal from the hurt caused to Charlie and the closure he never got at the end of his life or the closure that we will never have. Because of this, accepting that my brother is gone has been more difficult as I struggle to process everything. I am completely heartbroken by his death and I battle daily each new set of emotions that come with knowing there is nothing I can do to change that or the way any of this has happened.

Charlie & I grew up keeping battles like these private, so I'm feeling a bit vulnerable sharing this experience and exposing this level of hurt that has reached an unparalleled depth of pain. The fallout from this continues even now and there is simply no justification to the cruelty of it all. Even so, I know I've been blessed with many wonderful people who've become my support system and I've held on to my faith to carry me through and the promise of Psalm 121. I will never make sense of something that can not be made sense of. I realize that this could have all been avoided had my brother put something, anything in writing. Because he didn't, he was at the mercy of people who didn't have his best interest at heart. The remainder of his life and the arrangements of his death were made by individuals that Charlie was so sure loved him enough that they would put all differences aside during this time. Instead, they turned the end of his life into their own personal arena and made a circus of his death. So why share? Because Charlie deserved better. He will never get closure and we may never see justice but sharing is part of my healing and moving on. My brother didn't deserve to be a pawn in this game. He deserved to be showered with love during his entire life, especially in the end... not after he's gone. He deserved to be spread out on the ocean like he wanted. He deserved a celebration of his life that focused on his life and all that he did right. He deserved to be surrounded by the people he would have wanted and no one should have controlled that.

If you have a story about Charlie, please share. He would have probably enjoyed your version of something crazy he did.