Macbeth's Legacy

As I sit here in the library crying my eyes out trying to write these essays, it is impossible not to think of my brother as the most influential person in my life. He has impacted every part of me; how I think, what I want, who I need, everything. So this essay is not going to be all about me, it is going to be about how great of a person my brother was and how a deadly disease took him from us and from this, maybe you can understand how this disease impacted not just him, but his little sister too. As my english class finishes Macbeth, I have realized something wonderful, my brother was a tragic hero. Macbeth’s tragic flaw was his ambition and my brothers was that he loved, he loved with all of his being and everyone that met him knew that

I never fully grasped the idea of how addiction is a disease, so there has honestly been so many times when I thought I hated him. I would get so upset with him for doing things that were out of his control; stealing from us, causing us so much grief and sadness, and emotionally scarring me. I put up the thickest and strongest walls around myself so that he would not hurt me any more. I was so selfish; I blocked him out so that I wouldn’t get hurt, instead of being there to help him. I held a grudge for so long. Till the last day I saw him, I held a grudge for stressing mom and dad out, for not being the big brother that I wanted him to be, for choosing the drugs when I needed him to choose his

I received the call that my brother had overdosed when I was going to a haunted house with a couple of my friends. My mother had not known the severity and told me not to worry. Steven had overdosed in the past so I was not as concerned as I should have been. My friends and I kept on with our festivities and then they dropped me off at my house. There was no one home and I became distressed. When I called my mother she told me to just go to bed and that they would be home soon. I forced myself to sleep. I was in a daze when my mother and father came into my room to tell me that my brother was dead. I don’t know what happened in my brain, but I could not talk and I could not cry. I believe I brushed it off as an awful nightmare. My unconscious demeanor scared my parents so they kept sending people in my room trying to get through to me. I woke up to my best friend hugging me, not saying a word, and then she left. I woke up to my grandma holding my hand with tears flowing down her eyes, not saying a word, and then she left. I woke to my godmother speaking about grief and how I needed to believe that he was gone, and then she left. How was I supposed to believe that my brother was no longer on this earth? I sat there on my bed alone as the idea of my brother dying crept into my mind. My heart began to literally ache. I cried hysterically for hours on hours. It has been a year since he has passed and it doesn’t get any