My name is Amira, I’m a 27 year old Animation student. I lost my brother Malik two years ago at the age of 22, to a fentanyl overdose. My family and I had no idea he was struggling, he was playing college football, passing all of his classes, had tons of friends and all of that was taken away in the blink of an eye. He was so hilarious and truly a larger than life person with a lot of jokes to tell and a lot of love to give. He supported me in all of my endeavors and I’ll spend all my days trying to do things that make him proud.
Here are the Five Things I’ve learned after losing my little brother to a fentanyl overdose:
1. Nothing makes me want to explode faster than the phrases “at least”, “like a brother to me” or “he would’ve wanted”, especially the last one... I’m sure he would rather be alive to let us know his real wishes.
2. Even when people ask “how many siblings do you have?” I get nauseous and I find myself sick trying to find the answer “I’m the oldest of four, I’m the oldest of four, I’m the oldest of..” People will assume because you have other siblings or both parents that you’re doing okay and that the throes of grief somehow missed you. This is the furthest thing from the truth and left me feeling incredibly removed and isolated. I am allowed to grieve for my BROTHER, the only other person on the planet forged from the same flesh and bone, I knew him his whole life, I’ll love him until my dying day. Sibling grief is minimized. Check in on your people who have lost siblings.
3. Substance use remains the “elephant in the room” no one wants to talk about it even though overdoses are one of the leading causes of death in the United States, disproportionally impacting black and brown communities. When substance abuse is brought up people often perpetuate harmful stereotypes that humiliate and dehumanize people with substance abuse problems. Often casually talking about substance abuse without any regard for triggers, or referring to people as “crackheads.” I’ve learned to let these people fall from their high horses. I envy their ignorance sometimes... but some empathy would be appreciated.
4. I’ve experienced every emotion humanly possible, sometimes at the same time. You’re thrust into this club that no one wants to be a part of. It’s exhausting and sometimes the easiest emotion to access in a pure and visceral rage. Sometimes I feel like a volcano ready to erupt and make everyone feel as uncomfortable as I do. I know this is not right, I try to forgive myself but it is hard and it is painful to hush a constant lingering scream. In the same frame though, I’ve learned to unapologetically push into things I love and bring me joy and to let go of things that don’t really matter.
5. Overdose deaths are traumatic losses and nothing will ever not be complicated now: weddings, birthdays, holidays, even times when I’m just at the grocery store and I see a little brother and older sister, I feel so alone. There are days where I don’t feel so prolific and everything remains different, my parents, my life, everything. But I am thankful for the friends and family that send me and Malik love daily. More than anything though, I wish he were here.
