I have had a hard time starting the posts on this blog..... I wanted a place where I could place my memories in the hopes that one day, when I am gone, my kids and grandkids would find it and get to glimpse into my heart, my memories and my life, through my own words. Totally random will be the order . No rhyme nor reason, just what comes up at the moment I am compelled to write.
In a couple hours my shift will be over for the night. It will be sunday. I am going to visit my brother, Jerry, in the hospital. He has a blood clot in one leg and numerous ones in his lungs. He is 46. He is a homeless person, an alcoholic, of his own choosing. He looks so old when I see him. I am frightened to go and see him later today. He is my 'baby" brother. I cannot think of him without seeing him in the "film reel" of our childhood. He was always such a bighearted kid, clumsey, two left feet! He would wobble behind all of us or he would lead as we pushed him along. The last of five kids could not have been easy for him! Oh wait, yes it could have! We always took care of him, protected him from whatever the rest of us were doing. When we moved here to Cape Cod and Mom and Dad created a party life for themselves, it was a disaster for us five! Nothing good came of it. They had it all and lost it all. The echo's are still resounding as my brother lies in that hospital bed, probably not going to make it unless he changes his lifestyle, eliminating the beer and the cigaretts, excercising and eating regularilly. Mom left for Illinois when the boys were only around twelve, I think. She herself a very bad alcoholic, changing from the loving, devoted Mom to the harping, screaming hitting, abusive Jane after a few drinks. Most days, she started and ended her days the same way, drunk, passed out.
What a relief for us three sisters to be rid of her. We could make her be whoever we wanted as long as she was only a voice on the phone.
Little did we know that my brothers would fare so much worse than we could have imagined! How truly horrifying for them living with a monster for a Mother. I know this sounds like I hate Mom, but really, I hated Jane. Mom was so loving, quick to hug and tell you all the right things a child needs to feel loved. But oh if Jane happened to catch you, it would start a round of nightmares that I hate to think about! As we three sisters began to build our own lives from the mess that Mom and Dad left us with, we thrived where the boys slowly died. We were not there to protect them anymore. The baby boys were now on their own. We knew, like us, they would have to dig themselves out of the pit and get themselves into a better life, just like we did. We succeeded. Not one of us is an alcholic. We have beautiful homes and raised our children with love, tenderness and nothing like our growing up. But the brothers fared so badly! Picking women who turned into Janes and losing their families, their freedoms, themselves. One brother, In Illinois, barely making ends meet, bi-polar, depressed.
And then we come to Jerry. lying in that hospital bed, 46 looking 76. Teeth rotting, body emasciated, cranky and complaining that he needs a smoke. That he is not an alcoholic. He lives better than most. He loves living out in nature. He says he eats squirrels.. I don't believe he does. How would he catch them, being so weak? His hands shake like he has Parkinson's. He smells. His body, his breath, reeks of stale cigaretts and beer and seldom washed body. I look at him and wonder where that boy is who used to stumble behind us. Here it is Easter, I can remember being all dressed up in our finest, Easter Bonnets on, white gloves, the boys with their suits on with the little shorts. All of us skipping along the sidewalk to go to Gramma's house, hopping up onto the swing in the front yard, the boys sitting on either side while Robin and I stood and used all our strength to make that swing go higher and faster! The laughter echoes still in my memory!
I wonder if he ever thinks of those times?
