66 - Why won't you let me die

 “Why won't you let me die?” 

A question that echoed endlessly.

Why keep him here 

when all that surrounds him is suffering, 

sadness, 

misery, 

and emptiness? 

I wasn’t healing him, 

only keeping him alive. 

I wasn’t giving him reasons to live or making his life easier. 

I was prolonging his suffering because I couldn’t let go. 

Because he is family, and I love him dearly.

I selfishly brought him to a land he didn’t know, 

took him away from his friends, 

locked him in a prison, 

and guarded him 

thinking it was care.

For the first few years, 

that was all I could think about. 

Faced with his resentment, 

haunted by his plea to let him go, 

I confined myself in the same prison I created,

deepening my own depression.

My hands began to shake. 

Breakdowns came at work. 

Slowly but surely, I sank deeper into the shadows. 

For a while, 

I stopped wearing the mask at work. 

People saw me for who I was

angry, 

miserable, 

depressed. 

A smile painted on, but transparent, 

a mask anyone could see through.

For a couple of years, 

I wasn’t the lightkeeper anymore. 

I wasn’t guiding anyone, 

wasn’t shining light for those in need. 

I was just another exhausted barista, 

working without joy, working only for the money.

“Trying” wasn’t an option anymore. 

I just had to do it. 

Even though I was lost, 

and didn’t know what to do.

Helping others is noble

even if you fail, 

people say at least you tried. 

But with family, failure is inescapable. 

Every wrong decision fuels the thought that he would be better off gone, 

at peace, 

away from this world.

It is a dark state of mind to live in. 

Day by day, I sank into the abyss. 

Those were my first few years 

struggling to cope with the weight and responsibility of caring for my brother.

My body didn’t rock back and forth like my brother’s,

but my soul shook, 

and slowly crumbled into pieces during that period of my life.