By Jackson's brother, Mitch
Jackson Weintraub was born June 30th, 1994, exactly two and a half years after I was. We were essentially twins, and we were inseparable for most of our lives.
As a child, Jackson was a chubby little boy with a speech impediment. As a teenager, Jack was a muscle-bound stud wrestler, and as a young adult, a drummer in a band, breaking hearts and loving life.
In his early 20s, addiction and mental health issues began to consume Jack. The diseases and struggles he faced turned him from a gregarious, charming young man into a sad statistic. In August 2017, Jackson was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and died from a fentanyl overdose shortly after.
In losing my younger brother, I lost part of myself. His death taught me what I failed to realize while he was alive- he was in so much pain. I was very hard on Jack in the end, because I wanted him to succeed and overcome. I’ll carry that guilt with me for the rest of my life.
I do my best every single day to honor his memory, and remind others who read the statistics that he wasn’t just “some addict” -- he was a human being. A great one at that.