Letters To A Brother

Today was a hard day. Nothing I'm sure compared to what you've been through while you're away. The pat down, the orange jumpsuit, the degrading accommodations, the hoards of other men, not nice men, living close beside you. I hate the thought of you being there. You are not one of THEM.

And I could only watched as armed officers had you handcuffed and arms behind your back directed you into the back of a police car. There were so many things I wanted to say, yet I knew that nothing flowing out of my mouth as sound would, or could, encompass what I'd want you to know.

To set you free of my own accord would be to cheat you out of some valuable lessons. You are powerful, brother. Funny. Brite. You work harder than anyone I've ever known, besides our own Daddy. You love is all encompassing. Still, you choose to surround yourself with those who can not truly see you! Those who keep you down, pull you down, dig you down deeper and deeper than you've ever been. You dig right along with them.

I long to see you joyful! I know that childhood was a fleeting memory for you. You were robbed in many ways of enjoying it, of knowing it. But there comes a time when you have to own who you are now. Own every part of it... and then move on! It's tough, but doable.

Sometimes I wonder about the way you choose to learn things. I know it's your way. It's certainly not the way I'd chose for you, but I honor you in that. I also know you have lots of blame right now. It's everyone elses' problem. That's okay too! Just know that no matter what way you need to play it, I love you!

You are so much more than my brother. You've been my child from the day you were born. I have almost always considered you so. I'm holding a light for you, dear brother. I hope you can feel it. Keep it close when times are hard and soon we'll be hugging like no tomorrow. Second chances never cease to come around and you'll get another one. What will you chose to do with it?

Honest Lies

When I think about my parents, I mostly remember moments from long ago. Or at least that's what I like to remember. Thinking about them now, or the one that's still alive now, makes me sad. Sad and bitter. Bitter and angry. Angry and usually, right back to sad again.

I've run the gambit with my parents. Times when life was good, or so it seemed to my 5 year old self. Times that were scary, yes in my teens they really did feel this way. Times when I was lost, leaving your family for college usually feels this way, but even more so when the life back home turns all shades of gray, and black and green and basically the colors of an ugly bruise. Times when the roles swap and the kids become the parents and the parents be come the kids.

It happens you know!

And I found myself coming to a place were I didn't care. I don't care! It's all to much. And I have to step away and let them go. It's a strange place to be as a daughter. An oldest child. To get to a place where I can no longer let myself care. Care if my parents are happy, if they are cared for, if one day they'll kill themselves, kill each other, or die for no good reason at all. I just can't let myself care.

And then, one parent does die. And for all that talk of "not caring", I do! And then I care all over again. And I hate myself for not caring more.

Today happens. It always does. And today I have to not care again. I do, but I tell myself I don't. It's a game. And I play it, well I might add. And sometimes with much vigor. Openly and admittedly. Because sometimes, as sick and morbid and awful as it sounds, I do feel that being an orphan wouldn't be so bad... unless of course, it would!