He was wired differently from the rest of us. Extremely intelligent in some things; totally lost in others. And he had a temper that could be unforgiving while in force, then suddenly be gone. He and I went head to head more than once, but we were brothers and I cared for him in every way. Same for our sister.
When he could no longer find work, she and I made sure he had a place to live and money enough to exist. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough for him and helped him maintain a level of independence and self-respect.
Now he is no longer of this world. The diagnosis of terminal cancer and months to live settled into him and he chose not to prolong his existence.
His struggles at the end were harsh and choking...but grew quieter and quieter until, even as my sister and I stood next to his bed, he slipped away without our notice. His soft breathing stopped. No pulse. Just...silence. It took several moments for us to realize he was gone.
One niece said he was on the spectrum, and that could be true. But we didn't have access to diagnoses like that when he was growing up. It might have made a difference in his difficult existence. Maybe. Guess we'll never know.
Sometimes life is really fucking cruel.
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