It has been a month since my brother passed away and it doesn't seem to be getting easier. Yes, I don't cry as much, but the guilt I feel is terrible. I keep thinking I missed something, maybe I made a wrong choice. Maybe I should have fought more for him. I can't even picture him when he was healthy looking. I can only remember him in the hospital, very skinny and unable to hold his head up. It was so hard when I was with him the last couple of days and it was extremely difficult to watch this once vibrant, stubborn, healthy person slowly slip away. The doctors all told me he had a couple of months left, so I took him home for a weekend which wasn't the smartest thing but it was what he wanted. We ended up back at the hospital within 2 days and in 2 weeks he was gone. Did I make a mistake taking him home, did I make it worse. He really wanted to go home and I wanted to make him happy.
I remember watching him and wishing he wouldn't suffer for long and I feel so guily about that, along with everything else. I am so angry that he's gone (not at him), he was only 47 and it just doesn't seem fair.
This was the first time I ever went through anything like this and it was very surreal for me.




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