My cousin died three days ago, and I wasn't there for him like I should have been. I never persuaded him to put down the drugs... Not sure what all he consumed but he died in his sleep from all the shit he poisoned himself with.
Two years ago, his dad died, my uncle, and he was just as stupid. Did drugs as a kid and had sleep apnea that he never treated. His heart couldn't handle the abuse of the stuff he did and sleep apnea. The motherfucker died at 50, leaving his kids to handle their lives with just their mom. Well, his son followed suit, doing drugs to escape the feelings of his dad dying. Except he never was able to get over how awful he felt, and two years later, my cousin dies from an overdose.
I am mad at my cousin for doing drugs, I'm sad that he's gone, and I hate myself for never giving him a fucking phone call like a man. I couldn't face him because I thought he had negative feelings towards me. Now, because of my cowardice and fear of losing relationship with him, he's dead.
He had help too, which dissuades me from blaming myself entirely. He was going to counseling, both by himself and with his mom. My grandpa was calling him every week. My other cousin, his brother, was calling him regularly too, as well as their cousin, who I'll call Z.
Honestly, I don't know what I even could have done, or how much it would or would not have helped, but now he's gone and I don't have the chance to go back and do something... Anything at all, I have no ability to do it.
I just want to talk to him one more time, but I guess it will never happen and I have to make peace that one of the dudes I grew up with is gone forever. Worst part is, if I believe I am a christian, my cousin and uncle are now in Hell. So maybe I don't want to fully believe in that religion, although the truth of it was so alluring and has brought me some peace recently.
Losing my faith is not an option, I know there is a God, but Christianity is awful sometimes.