My younger brother Mel, 58, killed himself sometime Tuesday night. Another victim of the opioid crisis. He became addicted years ago from a doctor’s prescription. When drug laws tightened, as they needed to, he could no longer get enough painkillers to stop his constant migraine. The last few months, he has been vegetating in a recliner in a dark room. So much in pain he could not run his business or maintain his large horse property. We all knew he would go after our 96-year old mother died in May. That he took the pain for 10 years in order for her to die first was a testament to his strength and love.
I grieve, grieve, grieve his loss to me and our family. I am, at the same time, relieved to know he is no longer in pain. He died knowing he was loved and cherished and also knowing — after 10 years of every imaginable treatment, drugs, surgeries, hospitalizations — there was no way to relieve the pounding pain in his head. After his last surgery, he was also left partially paralyzed on one side and debilitating back pain.
My hope is that someday we, as a society, find a way for families to join with their loved one as he or she takes this step. I grieve his loss, truly. However my greater grief is that he had to walk this path alone in the dead of night with no loving arms to hold him.