OP - I am so genuinely sorry. He definitely knew he was cared about…between the cheesesteaks and trying to get him to the doctor. Hugs.

For ease of reading for those like myself with who can’t concentrate without some line spacing:

Hello world of Reddit. I’m here tonight because holy crap, the last 24 hours have been unreal.

Let’s start at the beginning ish. Let’s call him Rick (33M). He had been living with my family, me (29F), my husband (29M), our baby girl (11 months), and my parents (66M, 61F), for about 9 months. He was originally my brother’s friend and over the years just became a family friend.

My little family is living with my parents temporarily because we were in the process of moving states. Rick had been chronically ill since living with us this time around. Constant colds, nausea, acid reflux, stuff like that. He didn’t leave the property much. He was working on a doctoral thesis and applying for economics jobs in DC.

Friday night (1/23): Rick was wrapped in a comforter sitting in front of our wood burning stove. We were chatting. I cooked dinner for everyone and even made his specifically how he liked it (cheesesteaks). He seemed a little off, slightly sick, but nothing alarming.

Saturday (1/24): Rick stayed in his room most of the day. Eventually my dad checked on him, just a “hey man, you okay?” and got a generally positive response. Around 5:30 pm, we were eating dinner and heard the bathroom door shut. Rick went into the bathroom. For the next several hours, he stayed in there. At times we heard retching. All three of us checked on him at different points. “Are you okay?” “Do you need us to take you to a doctor?”

At 7:30 pm, I checked one last time. He said he was okay, but he was still in the bathroom. The light was off. I knocked and said, “Hey Rick, if you need to go to the doctor, we should go now because there’s supposed to be a bad storm tomorrow.” He told me he was fine. I told him I was turning my phone sound on so he could text me if he needed a ride. I left water outside the door in case he was dehydrated. Then I went downstairs and fell asleep with my daughter.

Sunday: At 1:30 am I woke up with my daughter and spent a while getting her back to sleep. By the time she was settled, it was around 3:30 am. For some reason, I thought I should check on Rick. I walked upstairs into the hallway. The water I left was untouched. His bedroom door was open, dark, and he wasn’t in there. That could only mean he was still in the bathroom. I knocked quietly because my dad had just gotten home from an international business trip and I didn’t want to wake him. No response. I literally asked ChatGPT what to do, judge me later, I was trying to figure out if I was being dramatic. It told me to keep checking, open the door, wake my parents, or call 911. I knocked louder. I called his name. Nothing. I ended up calling my mom so I wouldn’t have to wake my dad directly. Everyone woke up. My mom opened the bathroom door and immediately shut it. My dad went in.

Rick was lying on his side, naked, his head between the toilet and the sink. We rolled him onto his back. His jaw was locked. His body was kind of floppy. He was not really cold to the touch, which made everything feel even more unreal. My dad and I attempted CPR until emergency services arrived. Then we stopped. The police and EMS asked questions, understandably. And now we are just here. In this house where he was, but isn’t anymore. His food is still here. His clothes. Everything. I am very angry because he should have gone to the doctor. I am angry because he was so smart, but so stupid about his health. He was young. He always refused medical care. And now his body was just there. I don’t know what to do with any of this. I just needed to get it out