“There is about three years of of my life I do not remember,” my ailing brother said at one point during our vist, “I did bad things and for bad reasons. But I do remember the promise we made to each other.”
I looked at him blankly, not understanding.
“The day of the accident. I remember that we said it was just us.”
My heart clenched, emotion spilling over, and I’m sure it showed on my face. Oh yes. That promise. “It’s just you and me now,” he’d said to me almost 21 years ago.
I don’t know that I viewed it as a promise at the time, given the fact that I was 13 and our parents were dead. I’d never held a job or had to run a household. I’d never had to worry about a roof over my head, or getting food on the table, or making sure there was toilet paper in the bathroom. My mom used to clean my room for goodness sake. Promise?
But maybe it was just that – a promise to each other. A trust in each other placed under horrible circumstances. I believe I stood by that promise.
Even when he would disappear for days on end. Even when there was no food in the pantry. Even when I went to school with torn and worn clothing and was mocked and teased.
I stood by that promise as he declined into drug addiction. Even when he would sit at our mother’s kitchen table getting high for days on end, rambling about a fantasy future filled with ill-gotten money. Even when the sheriff came to move us out of one place or the next, because he’d used our rent money to buy more drugs.
I ran away once, but the shelter I ran to called my brother. And when he came to pick me up, I stood by him even as he threatened to have me committed to an institution as a troubled teenager. Even when he called me a pitiful orphan and threatened to take me to an orphanage.
Even after I moved out of his house at the age of 14, I still stood by him and never once turned him in for any of the stuff I’d witnessed. When I got a job, he’d call me for money, claiming he was waiting for another check. And I stood by him, at 16, and I gave him money out of my miserly earnings. And he took it – a 27 year old, capable man.
I held unknowingly to that unspoken promise until I was 18. Because he was my brother and my guardian. Because, when I was 13 and he was 24, he said to me it was just us now.
I wonder, can he say he did the same?
As you’ve said, at least some part of your brother really WANTED to deliver on the promise. I think that when it comes right down to it, most of us just do the best we know how, even under horrible circumstances.
Obviously he was totally unprepared to be your guardian, and in his own grief/fear/anger did only what he could manage and nothing more. It’s terribly sad and my heart aches for that little girl that you were.
The past is a part of our journey. Despite the bad things that have occured you have clearly grown into a beautiful and well-adjusted woman. Your current well being is the most important thing, just don’t let all of this garbage from the past get you down.
*Hugs*
Shasta
Some people are just born bad. It’s nobody’s fault or responsibility to fix them. His promise is just one more tool he used to manipulate you.
Thanks, Shasta. I like who I am. It is the past, and in some ways I am my past.
Kiko, you speak the truth. But can bad people ever be reformed? What is your experience?
With age comes wisdom and the ability to see things for what they are. Can bad people be reformed? I dont’ think Rich can be, but it doesn’t really matter, as long as he isn’t in a position to hurt anyone again.
In some ways, his karma caught up with him given what he is going through. I do believe he feels bad and maybe even some part of him recognizes that his decisions not only were bad ones, but they were his and his alone.
I think he will always be opportunistic. That is definately in his blood and won’t likely change. It is something to guard against most assuredly. But I do believe you were right when you said to me to let go… and maybe part of my letting go is accepting him for who he is and recognizing he will always be my brother. I can hate him – but what do I gain? More importantly – what do I lose? That is where my head is right now.
I’ve been without this brother for almost half my life. I lost more than just my parents in that accident. But he is still alive. Wouldn’t it be sad if I didn’t take this opportunity to know him? I am older, smarter, and more able to protect myself than I was at 13, 16, 18… maybe I’m naive. Maybe I’m just hopeful. But I gotta try… ya know?