For My Best Brother:
To have a loved one forever gone, to never be able to talk to them again, to hold them, to speak with them and share our lives together — the small moments and the big. The daily annoyances, the successes and failures, the good times and the bad. To never hear their voice again or share a meal. No more movies together, no more arguments or missed phone calls. No chance to say, "I love you," one more time or tell them, "good night." To know that they will never again feel your embrace around them, but only that of the cold earth.
Or to have them remain, though in flesh only. To watch the promise that was their life shatter and crumble. To see all traces of them shouted down by a mind that has turned on itself with no hope of peace. A life where happiness and joy have been replaced by fear and madness. To know that they will never find that place we all seek — contentment. To watch an illness not only destroy their life but the memory of them as well. To see their friends move on, as they must, a reminder of what their life may have been.
The choice is impossible but when phrased differently an answer appears. If you had to inflict one fate or another on someone you love, the choice becomes clear. I'd like to say, "I fully support and urge treatment for those suffering from serious mental illness and fully believe in it's benefits. While it cannot always stop or reverse the effects of mental illness, it can certainly improve the quality of life for those souls who suffer from such."
This is simply my way to share a thought. Something poets, song writers, authors, and many others do daily — they are just paid to do it.