On August 23 this past summer, 2008, I received a phone call that changed my life. It was my father, asking me if I was sitting down. "Why? Did you win the lottery," I joked. He sounded strange, not his usual self. He told me it was about my brother Daniel, that he was dead.
Well at that point i kind of lost it, dropped the phone screaming Daniel's dead, he's dead. Coincidently, Daniel's Bio dad was visiting me at the time and got on the phone, since I was kind of lost at the moment. It was the start of a nightmare that didn't get better for quite some time. I had to go tell my mom at work that her son was dead and see all her happiness die in an instant.
My brother was 20 years old, and doing really good with his life reaching independence and making everyone one who knew him so proud. I was so proud. Our family history is full of alcoholism, but Daniel was never a big drinker, even when he turned 19.
He died of acohol poisoning after being dared to drink a tumbler of whiskey. My brave, strong beautiful brother who did so many things right, did one thing wrong and it cost him his life.
It's odd, but my mom has three children, but she always feared for him the most. When he was 18 months old, she had a dream that he would die before the age of 21, and an old asian man also said around this time that she would have to be very careful of him when he was a young man.
It's so strange. I was only 3 at that time, and that old man used to give us a candy whenever we were in his store. He was very wise and kind and I wish I could ask him how he knew. It is strange.
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