I have just joined this group, my brother died 7 months of an accidental overdose. Although he had tried to kill himself several times before, he had cleaned himself up for six months, was no longer on drugs, had quit drinking and was working full time. Although we are still waiting for the inquest, he was found with loads of medication around him. We know for sure that it was accidental because of the way he was found and the stuff he left behind (it doesn't run course with the other time's and he would never have wanted his dad to have found him that way) It's almost like he collapsed. The coroner first said that he had died of a heart attack. But we know, as a family, the medication was the final thing to take him. However, suicide is on my mind. It's almost like he might as well killed himself because by his own hand, he took the pills. He suffered with anxiety and was trying to calm down (text messages on his phone confirmed that) I am six years older that him. My Mum was a single parent for the first six years of his life and then moved in with his Dad when he was 6 and I was 12. He is my half brother but I never saw him as that. The quote 'the quieter you become the more you are able to hear' was found near his bed, that he had written some months before and reminds me of everything he was. I am now going to Counselling but everyday I think about him, every minute of every day I think how I wish it had been me and not him. I should tell you that I had another brother that died when I was 15. He died when he was 2 years old of cot death. I never thought I could feel so much pain until 7 months ago. 26 years of life with my brother, I have so many memories of him. They are both buried in the same church yard. I cant seem to move on, one of my closest family members said to me 'my grief was over the top' because I was so angry. It really got to me. Nowaday's I don't really talk about my grief to anyone. Inside I feel like I cant breathe. I look back to the day before the day it happened and just wish I had been there to help him. The last two years I had helped him so much in recovery. He had come off heroin and methodone on his own. We were so proud of him. Sometimes I look at a picture of him and just cannot believe he has gone. It's almost like I just wont accept it. And then other days I think 'Okay so A has gone, I have to accept it and just move on. Will I ever feel normal again?