It is here. The day I've been dreading. One year since the morning I received the most horrible phone call of my life. First, it was my mom telling me Amir was in the ER and the doctors did not think they could revive him. Then, less than an hour later, word that my beautiful, beloved brother was gone. He was 38 and the center of all of our worlds.
Amir made us laugh like no one else could and I will forever miss those deep-down belly laughs that only Amir could provide. It's always the clown who suffers the most sadness, right? I remember talking to him about Robin Williams' death. He related to Robin in a very personal way, having struggled with anxiety and depression most of his young life. We will never know why.
Amir turned to prescription pills to help ease his anxiety, depression, insomnia and constant state of worry. He was meticulous about how what he took and how often. He took better care of himself than most people (worked out, ate healthy) even when depressed. His death was technically an accidental overdose, though he did not have an excessive amount of anything in his system. Just two drugs that should not have been mixed. He died of respiratory failure. His poor girlfriend was with him. She said he was sleeping peacefully until early AM, when she heard him stop snoring and called 911.
It hurts so much to know that he did not want to die. He had so much he still wanted to accomplish. He was doing well, in spite of hiding his pill use from us. He had a good job and a lovely girlfriend who cared for him. He talked about going back to finish college and changing careers. He was excited for Yael's wedding and looked forward to getting to know Thiago. They would have hit it off beautifully.