Time to wrap up the saga of little brother. A sad, self-inflicted ending to a sad life, wasted in foggy self-administered (natural and man-made) drug coma, allowed because of denial of spiritual being, inability to seek other paths that may have brought self-esteem and perseverance, and a brilliant ability to attribute blame for one's situation onto anyone other than self. He'd cry out to God "if you're there" in his writings but never could get God to do the magic things immediately that were sought, thus cementing unbelief... like a child who doesn't get what he wants right away... throw a tantrum and walk away saying the hell with you.
He apparently thought he had at different times, two common-law wives, both of whom apparently OD'd and died leaving him in grief to muddle about and never relate substance abuse to possible death in others... but often hoping his own intake would result in the same outcome for him... which it never did... thus the chosen ending using a weapon of brain destruction that couldn't be remedied.
The hobby seemed to be to crap on "the man" whenever one could get away with it; beg, borrow (never paying back), or steal. No big deal if you had more that he had at the time because why would you miss what he needed when you seemed to have so much?
Classic portrayal of outward/inner man not matching; what you saw was not what you got if you wanted to get close to him. For no one could get close even a mother who thought he took such good care of her.
One man's reality, another man's fantasy.
Some day I may know how it truly finished as he went to meet the Spirit in the sky, however there will be no sorrow or grief for me because it is finished and I believe.
Don't waste your sorrows on him, me or anyone else but yourself until you can be certain of the One Who offers you salvation through The Cross: Jesus Christ Himself. A shroud has no pockets. At the final millisecond of your life here upon the earth, what else will TRULY matter?
