Addiction
Today is the 21st anniversary of my brother's death. I posted this last year in honor of him— Tomorrow will be twenty years to the day my brother Ricky overdosed on heroin and died. I remember getting the phone call from my sister and not being surprised. He was 40 when he died and had been an addict his entire adult life. We had all been expecting that phone call. At some point. It’s a massive disservice to my brother to speak about him in reference only to his addiction. He was a truly beautiful human being, the kind you couldn’t help but love. His kindness and openness warmed people—everybody—to him immediately. His smile was too broad to describe.
I was twenty-three when he died, and though I loved him, I’d spent a chunk of my life until then resenting him for bringing the horrors of his addiction into our family’s life. |
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He was seventeen years older than I, and I had only ever known him as a junkie. That was the label I gave him, even before brother. When I think about Ricky now, I see his smile. It was so big. So sincere, even within all of his struggle. I think about how sensitive he was, way too sensitive for this messy world. He couldn’t figure out how to handle reality as it was. He needed something more. And ultimately, he couldn’t handle the something more, either.
I wish I could describe to you all what a special person my brother was. I wish you could have been touched by him the way my family was. I wish you could feel the depth of love I’m feeling for him right now as I remember the truth of his beauty beyond the ugliness of his addiction.
I’ve noticed lately that I have a growing number of addiction and recovery pages following my page. Many of these pages regularly like and share things I post. I’m touched every time. Not because of Ricky, necessarily. Maybe because I have witnessed intimately just how brutal addiction can be, how overwhelming and all-encompassing, how purely devastating it is. And to think that those struggling with addiction might find some level of healing in my words is deeply humbling.
I grew up around several addicts. Not just my brother. I’ve watched family and friends fall to their addictions, and I’ve seen them survive—and really live—beyond the drugs or alcohol or gambling or whatever it is that threatens to break them. Though I can be compulsive in my habits, I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to be an addict. I can’t speak directly to how intense it is to overcome an addiction. But I can speak to the strength and resilience that lives within each of us that allows us to overcome whatever struggle we’re facing in this lifetime. You have what it takes within you, and I have what it takes within me, to face our lives— the good and the ugly—with the courage and conviction to move forward, no matter what. My brother didn’t deny his addiction. He tried many, many times to kick it. Had he not OD’d, I’m certain he would have kept trying. That’s all we can do. Keep trying. Keep trying to take care our minds and bodies, keep trying to be more loving, keep trying to make choices that serve the best in ourselves and others.
In my experience, the more we try, the more life rewards our efforts. But we have to keep trying. I made the mistake as a kid of looking at Ricky as a junkie and not much more. And he was so much more. Let’s be careful how we label and judge one another. We don’t have to support a person’s actions to find compassion for them. We don’t have to agree with each other to respect each other. We all know pain, we all know struggle. The very least we can do is love one another, from near or far, and wish for each other the strength to live a fulfilling life. In honor of my brother, whose heart was bigger than the moon, I send you all love and smiles, and the deep hope that we can all continue to thrive beyond whatever struggles present themselves. In love and solidarity…
I wish I could describe to you all what a special person my brother was. I wish you could have been touched by him the way my family was. I wish you could feel the depth of love I’m feeling for him right now as I remember the truth of his beauty beyond the ugliness of his addiction.
I’ve noticed lately that I have a growing number of addiction and recovery pages following my page. Many of these pages regularly like and share things I post. I’m touched every time. Not because of Ricky, necessarily. Maybe because I have witnessed intimately just how brutal addiction can be, how overwhelming and all-encompassing, how purely devastating it is. And to think that those struggling with addiction might find some level of healing in my words is deeply humbling.
I grew up around several addicts. Not just my brother. I’ve watched family and friends fall to their addictions, and I’ve seen them survive—and really live—beyond the drugs or alcohol or gambling or whatever it is that threatens to break them. Though I can be compulsive in my habits, I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to be an addict. I can’t speak directly to how intense it is to overcome an addiction. But I can speak to the strength and resilience that lives within each of us that allows us to overcome whatever struggle we’re facing in this lifetime. You have what it takes within you, and I have what it takes within me, to face our lives— the good and the ugly—with the courage and conviction to move forward, no matter what. My brother didn’t deny his addiction. He tried many, many times to kick it. Had he not OD’d, I’m certain he would have kept trying. That’s all we can do. Keep trying. Keep trying to take care our minds and bodies, keep trying to be more loving, keep trying to make choices that serve the best in ourselves and others.
In my experience, the more we try, the more life rewards our efforts. But we have to keep trying. I made the mistake as a kid of looking at Ricky as a junkie and not much more. And he was so much more. Let’s be careful how we label and judge one another. We don’t have to support a person’s actions to find compassion for them. We don’t have to agree with each other to respect each other. We all know pain, we all know struggle. The very least we can do is love one another, from near or far, and wish for each other the strength to live a fulfilling life. In honor of my brother, whose heart was bigger than the moon, I send you all love and smiles, and the deep hope that we can all continue to thrive beyond whatever struggles present themselves. In love and solidarity…
The original link: https://www.facebook.com/ScottFrankStabile/posts/828983087199627
