My brother died. He was 42. I can’t quite believe how badly it has hit me. I didn’t see it coming. He was found at 10:53am on Thursday, on the floor, with ‘drug paraphernalia’ around him, the police have told us.
I keep thinking about what I was doing at that time. I was in the office, laughing around with my colleagues and my poor brother was lying dead.
I feel like the police think he’s a ‘lesser being’ because it’s likely a drug death. I don’t give a fuck if he died by drugs. It makes no difference to me if it was drugs, natural causes, a tragic accident, all that matters to me is that he’s gone. His death isn’t any less tragic. He isn’t less of a person. He was loved. He was such a nice, quiet guy. So very quiet that he just got lost in the background of everything. It devastates me to think that he may not have known how loved he was. I spoke to him last week and I can’t remember if I told him I loved him. It’s tearing me up inside thinking of all the ways I should have been a better sister. I know he wouldn’t have wanted me to feel like that. I just can’t believe he’s gone. Seeing the grief on my parents faces. Knowing that he’s left 2 kids behind - my brother had only found out his 23 year old son was going to be a dad. He was so excited.
I don’t know how to continue and not be thinking of him every minute of the day. His life mattered. He mattered. He was my little brother and I loved him.
I just wanted to get this out there. There’s no need for words, nothing anybody can say.
His name was Charles. He was my brother. His life mattered. I will miss him so much.