I thought I wanted to know. I thought I needed closure, that knowing what had taken my little brother out of my life would help me somehow accept the loss of him at only thirty years old. I thought if I had some concrete thing to point to and say, "This is the reason I can no longer visit my brother and pester him about cleaning his apartment/going back to school/getting his son back/taking better care of his health," then maybe I could file it all away under "D" for "Dead Brother" and go about my life as if it all made sense somehow. I really thought I wanted to know.
"It is my opinion that the cause of death was an accidental overdose of meth-amphetamines."
Now I know.
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