Sometimes I really do miss him. We were tight as kids; we fell apart in our teens. I was a fairly idiotic big sister who didn't want to be bothered with my little brother... and by the time I outgrew that, he was far away in a lot of bad ways. By the time he came back, I'd moved out. Once we were both reaching the age where we could be friends again, he made a mistake and backslid -- and it was his last.
Heroin is a very bad thing, but it should be treated with medicine, not jail. Today he might have made it. Back then the misunderstandings were just too great.
This is the only picture I have scanned and uploaded of him, with me, Mom, and her parents (Grandma and Grandpa):
I'll have to see if I can find my favorite picture of him as an adult, taken a year or so before he died. I'm not sure where it is...
I can't help but wonder what might have been. What he could have been, if there had been treatment rather than juvenile detention.
I don't really mean to be melancholy - I'm not, really. Just remembering.