My brother was sick in the way the best people are:

Troubled from a life that showed a sensitive boy too much too soon.

And so my brother did what those who feel too much tend to do. He numbed himself until he felt nothing at all. He felt passed over and disappointed so he did nothing.

My brother was sick in a way that could not be avoided and could not be corrected. No amount of war would make him feel peace. No chemical could make him feel at ease.

My brother was a beautiful boy who would have given you the shirt from his back. He would have fought any fight for any underdog.

He knew like all troubled boys know he could take the pain.. or numb it in ways only troubled boys can.

For a long time I blamed him because he knew the risks. He’d seen it happen. He should have known better.

Maybe he did.

Maybe he took the risk of numbing because he’d taken on too much pain for too many people. Maybe he just couldn’t stand walking around with a gaping hole in his heart.