Sister

I finally got to go home. It's been too long. I need my mountains. They are part of me. Charles got to go with me and we a wonderful time. I'll write more about it another time. This post is about my Sister. One would be hard pressed to find sisters more different. She is of medium height (I'm short, 5 ft.), she has hazel eyes (mine are blue) her hair is auburn (when it's natural!), with all shades of brown, red and blond - she's currently a reddish/blonde (I have a mousy dark brown - currently a brownish/black), she is thin (I'm thick). She's always been a bit of a mystery to me. I've always been a bit in awe of her. She was/is the pretty one. Until she was in her 30s (I believe - it may have been earlier than that) she had beautiful, long, virgin hair. At one point she wanted to cut it, but the lady that did our hair refused. I was always cutting, bleaching, coloring. Now I want to be a natural as I can be, and she does everything with her hair. When she was a senior in high school I think I saw her about 3 times. Every guy I had a crush on she dated, then dropped. She never wanted kids, but has two and is now a grandmother (I prefer Goddessmother, I'm not sure what she prefers). I always expected to have children and have none. I was always the "good girl." She the rebel. I assumed I would live near my parents and she would move away - probably to a city somewhere. She lives across the road from my parents, I moved first to Binghamton, NY and now to Laurel, MD - right outside of Washington DC. I never thought she noticed me, except as the occasional annoyance. There was a time I would "hang" at her house, but we were never really close. Again, I've always been in awe of her.

Just recently I was sure I would lose her. I felt it in my bones, just as I knew I'd lose William. When William died, at the funeral, when everyone was leaving I looked up and saw her looking at me. We'd not even really spoken before that - each of us lost in our own pain, trying to come to terms with this thing that had happened to our brother, ourselves, our family. I think we moved toward each other simultaneously. We hugged and cried. There were no words. There was no need. We knew it was just "us" now. Sisters. No longer "siblings" - not two sisters and a brother. Just sisters now. It was at once the most beautiful and exquisitely painful feeling I've ever had. I finally had my sister. I'd never have my brother with me again. I remember people watching. Everyone had been moving toward their cars. Suddenly all movement ceased. They watched us. I think our feelings were tangible. I believe I would have lashed out at anyone who would interrupt. You understand - I can't lose my sister now, I'd just found her.

She's been diagnosed manic/depressive. Our brother was manic/depressive. She had a break with this life. (I refuse to call it reality - who knows was reality really is?) She went very far away. I didn't think she could come back. I didn't know if she wanted to. After our moment life went on. I found my mind. I packed up and moved out and on. Left a marriage of 20 years. Found a love I never knew could exist. And, if I'm going to be honest - and I insist on honesty for myself - tried to distance myself from them. I didn't want any more drama. Couldn't take losing anyone else. Take me away from all this death. I wasn't able to go to her when "it" happened. My parents (or maybe just mother) thought it best that I wasn't there. She had so much happening in her life then and now - very few of them are good. Again, life went on. A few months passed. I assumed she never thought of me. Why should she? I'm not there. It seems I've never been there, not just when the bad things happen, but the good as well.

And then I went home. We had a lovely Thanksgiving dinner at my niece's (my sister's oldest child) house. I can't remember if it was that night, or the next that we went to my sister's house. We talked. We laughed. Then she said she had made a CD for me. She put it on and said, "This is your song. This is for you." I listened. I sobbed. I never knew. I love you too, Sister, thank you.

Nixons - Sister

Here I am again,
Overwhelming feelings
A thousand miles away
From your ocean home
Part of me is near

Thoughts of what we were invade
The miles that stand between
We can't separate
You're all I hoped you'd become

Sister I see you
Dancing on the stage
Of memory
Sister I miss you

Fleeting visits pass
Still they satisfy
Reminders of the next
Overshadow goodbye
And our flames burn as one

Sister I see you
Dancing on the stage
Of memory
Sister I miss you

All I am begins with you
Thoughts of hope understood
Half of me breathes in you
Thoughts of love remain true

Here we are again saying goodbye
Still we fall asleep underneath the same sky (You're all I see you)
You're all I knew you'd become

Sister I see you
Dancing on the stage
Of memory
Sister I miss you

Entwined, you and I
Our souls speak from across the miles
Intertwined, you and I
Our blood flows from the same inside

Half of me, breathes in you
Thoughts of love remain true
I see you, I feel you
When I close my eyes
I see you walking there...I see you dancing in my mind

It's...

a new day.

Awake

It is 1:58 a.m. by my computer clock. I'm awake. Apparently Saturday night I took both the meds the "head" Doctor prescribed for me and slept from 1:30ish Saturday night until 7:30 p.m. Sunday. Won't be doing that again! One of the meds is supposed to help me think more clearly. It does that, I think. Apparently it knocks me on my butt when it done though! The kitties are up and awake with me too. Playing. They are so funny! I can't really see them, because I only have the light from the computer, but I can hear them playing and "yelling" at each other. I so glad I have them. More accurately they have me, I suppose. I just got done eating two bowls of cereal. I'm starving! I had a toasted turkey sandwich when I woke up. The only reason I woke was because Charles got home from his 'coaster weekend. I honestly thought it was 7:30 a.m. when I finally woke. He kept ringing the phone until I came around. I had (of course) put the chain on the door, as well as having both the bolts thrown. If it hadn't been for the chain he could have gotten it. I had so many plans - the least of which was to be looking pretty for him! As it was I was unshowered, my hair in a mass of tangles, and naked. OK, honestly, he did enjoy the naked part! It was really only, what 1 day apart? He left Friday afternoon and got back Sunday (today?) at 7:30. But, oh my. How beautiful he looked to me! He got a shower and his hair! The most gorgeous curls! Perfect spiral ring curls. Waves near the top, close to his head. Can I just say - YUM! OK, I'm drifting into "to much information." Sorry!

Now for more things I have learned. I live way to far away from work. People ask me why I don't move closer. So many reasons: It more expensive in VA than it is in MD. There is a tax one has to pay on one's cars (and we have two) when one moves to VA, not mention the cost of moving itself. We have an excellent deal where we're living and I don't think anyplace else could beat it. We could try to move closer to VA but stay in MD, but I think that's about as expensive as living in VA itself. And the lamest reason (or should it be excuse for this one) after driving back and forth on the beltway five days a week the last think I want to do is drive it again looking for places to live. I don't think realtors will help with apartment looking either. I'd almost be willing to do that. Give someone an idea of our price range and what we're looking for, let them find a few and go look at the weekend. Where we are now our electric, water, garbage, everything is included in rent. We pay phone and cable. And we have the "babies" too. I won't go anywhere that we can't take them. We pay a pet fee from them and that's fine. With that included we're just over $900 a month. Trust me - it's a deal. Having said all that - I haven't worked at all this past week. I'm not sure how to put this in words exactly. I guess what it is, is that I have no time. I work a 40 hour week. Yes, I know most people do. But I have an approximately 2 hour drive on average. That four hours on the road. That's half most people's work day, yes? I've been skipping my lunch hour, but with that I have a nine hour day. But for honesty purposes, without that hour I'm already away from home 12 hours. It takes me about an hour, hour and a half in the morning to wake up, take a shower, get dress, made up (when I do), and all that other good stuff. So now we're at 13 hours in things that just involve work! For me to be able to function I really need eight hours of sleep. So we have a 24-hour day, yes? I have 21 hours accounted for now. That leaves me 3 hours for me, Charles, the babies. I have to eat when I get home from work, that takes 1/2 hour. Then there's just "wind down" time when I get home. And let me tell you, the drive is horrendous! That's a normal day. Keep in mind, sometimes I have overtime. Sometimes the drive is more than and hour, hour and a half. Some days it's two hours there, two hours home.

I never planned to live here forever. And yes, just having finally written this out and seeing it in purple and white (giggle), I see I really need to make some sort of change. I love my job, but I may have to look for something closer to home. I absolutely must make at least what I making now though. Otherwise we won't make it financially. We were behind before I missed a week of work. So either find something closer to here (and hope I don't HATE it), or move closer. But the output of cash for moving closer will be quite a bit, I'm afraid. I dunno. I do know I will figure it out. One way or another. OK, it's 2:30 a.m. now. I'm gonna try to sleep.

Blessings!

Getting Better All the Time

OK deep cleansing breath now. I'm coming back to myself. Aside from all the uproar with my family there has apparently been quite the uproar going on within myself as well. I'm on my way to sorting things out now. I'm overweight - well, I'll do just one small thing for now. I've lost weight before and kept it off, but since I've moved here my routine is so very different from how it used to be, I've lasped. Wicked. I'll take things slow (again). For now, instead of soda (I'm way into Cherry Coke!) It'll be water. That's my one small thing. And then I'll find another small thing, whether it's my weight, my self esteem, or anyone of the other thousand things that got out of hand, instead of the "bad" things snowballing, I'm going to get some good things rolling. If there was ever any doubt (and there never was) I love Charles more than I ever had or ever thought was possible to love anyone. And oh, I'm so loved by him. I can honestly say I feel cherished. This man, this very true man has stood beside me, behind me, and sometimes in front of me, when needed, through all of this mess. Love, respect, honor, devotion, there isn't a word for the way I feel about this man.

I've always wanted to be "ahead" of myself I think. Couldn't wait to be older. Well, I think I've been rushing again. I had been preoccupied with the Crone. As though I am anywhere near being able to claim that - wisdomwise I mean. I'm certainly close enough in age, giggle! But, yes, I was identifying, I believe, with the physical features (my vision, anyway) of the Crone. And while I believe I'll be letting my hair go to it's natural dark brown flecked with gray and embracing evermore of my inner Crone - I AM NOT OLD! Did you hear me, Miss Molly Jane? And when I am old (whenever that may be) - what of it? Old does NOT mean fat, or out of shape, or bad habits for the love of all the stars in the sky!

--- WE INTERRUPT THIS BLOG FOR THE FOLLOWING NEWSFLASH ---

It is 11:20 p.m. now, here in the city (city for me anyway) of Laurel, MD and I just heard a BIRD CHIRPING!!!! How beautiful is THAT? And talk about a sign!

--- WE NOW RETURN YOU TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED BLOG ---

I have to stop thinking there is some magic number of age that will make me feel I am myself. What the heck is wrong with being me NOW. Right here, right now, as I live and breathe. One of the things that helped me lose weight before is applicable to any/everything. Don't wait until you've (lost weight, got the right clothes, have the perfect job, insert your own challenge here) to start living your life. What am I waiting for?

Caiden Edward 

Making My Way Back

I've been gone for a while. A place I'd hoped never to go to again. I've fought long and hard to stay here. In the relatively normal place that I live. And still I feel like a failure because even at my worst I can't completely go away. Now I understand that's for the best. I'm awful about posting because I have no time. No time just for me. I don't mean to sound whiney. I'm understanding now that I feel this need to be everything to all people. And I want that - to help everyone else. I nothing left for me though. Now I know I have to make/take time for me. This sounds so very pathetic even to me, so I'll get to the point. Soon will be the 3 year anniversary of the death of my brother. I was coping pretty well. Felt as though I was getting on top of some things. I got a phone call from my Dad this past Saturday. Of course when Dad calls it's not going to be pleasant. Someone has died, or is hurt. He began to tell me. My sister. Hospitalized. Catatonic. Manic Depressive. God. Here we go again. I can't do this again. I can not and I will not. William was the alcohol. My sister is the drugs. Please God don't let me have to do this again. I can't lose my sister too. I remember wishing I had been an only child. Do you know there are worse things than being dead? She has started to come back. The doctors don't know how far she'll make it back. I'm strong. I'll stay strong. I'll make it. But I can't do this again. I don't want the 3 a.m. phone calls from her crying out for help. How bad a person does that make me? I don't want the 8 a.m. phone call saying she's dead. I can't have her even coming to visit me right now. I have so much on my plate I can't fit a single thing more. I can't see through the pain. Isn't it enough now? When the fuck will it be enough?
C is going to start school in June. He's away this weekend riding roller coasters (all expenses paid - he has a lovely friend). Only six months and he'll graduate. Please that we make it until then. I had a break down because of the stress. He's supposed to be here with me now, but how could I make him miss this? He's never had anything really "cool" in his live - this is VIP treatment. I won't deny him that. I hope I don't sound bitter about this - I'm NOT. The man works so hard. But I want to go hold my great nephew. I don't have anyone to pay my expenses though. I would never ask Mom & Dad for the money. Beside I've gotten so fat now I only fit in one pair of jeans. What would I wear? That sounds so trivial, but think about it. I have three pairs of dress pants, one pair of jeans and one dress I fit. Well. Welcome to my pity party for me. I felt so sad when I started writing this. Apparently it's the best thing I could have done. Butch Walker playing on the media player and me whining. I suddenly don't feel quite as bad, not so down. It will come back though. Hopefully I'll be able to express myself better. Now it's C's brother M's band playing. "Slippin' Away" is the name. Free association at it best here!
I've posted a picture of my great nephew. He was 4 lbs, 4 oz. When he was born. Now he's up to 7 pounds! I'm making a baby blanket for him - crocheting the blanket. I hope it comes out nice.
OK I may be back for more later.
Blessings

I Went Outside Today

I haven't been out of my apartment, other than to go to work and come back home, in about 3 months. It started out innocently enough. Every time Charles and I go anywhere together we end up spending all kinds of money. Then it got cold and rainy and I just didn't want to. I'm also happiest when I'm home with my babies. I am a nester to the extreme! However, I also previously, in what seems like another life, became extremely agoraphobic. Didn't leave my house for about 2 years. Not to work, not to anything. I have to be very careful about it. Of course, the house itself was part of the problem. I know that if I hadn't left it I would be either dead or catatonic. But that's a story for another time. Anyway, consequently I have gained so much weight it's not funny. I can't move the way I used to (and I'm a former ballet dancer), and I pretty much stay in pain. It stops here and it stops now. I won't put my weight here just yet, it's to painful for me, but I'm only 5 feet tall. I have to loose about (or at least) 60 pounds. I'm not going to obsess (I hope), or whine or cry. But I'll talk about it here from time to time. Part of the problem, I believe, is I've stopped living. I drive the beltway at least 3 hours a day. I'm at work 8-10 hours. I'm tired. Tired all the time. I found some B12 that really helps, but it's so expensive. I think I just have to do it for myself though. I have to remember that I count and I matter. I'm surrounded by really wonderful people, and yet I've lost myself again. I wonder if everyone goes through this. I have so many flashbacks of William. They come at the oddest times. I have this need to tell, to talk, about the things that have happened in my life. But the word tell keeps coming up in my head. As though all these things need to be kept secret. That we shouldn't tell. So much of it happened before computers were an everyday thing. The news stories, such as they were, haven't been stored, entered, archived, whatever it is that's done, on a computer yet. I can't find anything, or next to nothing about R. Severcool. Perhaps that's a reason I don't tell. I know what it's like to be that family. The one that had a "bad" person in it. I don't want to cause pain, more pain to any of the people involved. Also, I've never felt these things happened to me. I was there, sometimes a almost participant. But it wasn't me that it happened to. I lived. I've survived. There are scars aplenty, but none so bad as what happened to the others. Some of the people were unknown to me, but they have/had family. I don't know. Will telling stop the images?

Time

I love my blog. I really do. Unfortunately I don't have a lot of time for posting. Living in Maryland and working in Virginia makes for a really long day. Then I have all my "babies" that I want to love on once I'm home. And I have to say my loves do take precedence. However, I've got to have some time for me too. Ain't this modern life grand? So this is just about all the post I can manage this night. But I'm still here. I've got so many things I want to write about! My head just spins. For right now though I have to say a "rest well" to two of my uncles. Uncle Francis passed away Monday, March 14. Saturday, March 26 Uncle Larry passed over. Uncle Larry was my cousin Billy's stepfather. The only father Billy ever knew. I believe I've written about Billy before - he died when he was 17 after playing in a football game. I'm sure I'll write more about him as well. For now, I wish Uncle Francis and Uncle Larry Godspeed. Rest well.

Strangers and Friends

One of the things I like best about life is the kindness of “strangers.” You have to know I’ve never met a stranger. I come by it honestly – my mother, her mother (my grandmother); well, just about everyone in my Mom’s family have never met one either. My best friend D used to tell her girls not to act like their “Aunt” Debbie – “They’ll find her parts in a garbage dumpster some day.” I know that’s horrid, but for some reason it always makes me laugh! Shopping with my Mom is always an (usually all day) experience. The reason it takes so long? Mom is talking with people. Helping people find what they need. Giggling about some silly thing with some person she’s never laid eyes on before and never will again. Gods I love my Mom! She talks to other shoppers, the sales associates (not about anything they’re selling) and the checkout people. I continue this tradition. If I get a wrong number on my answering machine and they leave a number I call them back. Can you imagine? It happened again this past Sunday. There was a message from “Wanda.” She needed to find something that her husband (I found out later) told her to get, she couldn’t remember (some thing for the car), but did remember that her nephew would know. The message said she was at the front of the store and could he call and help her. Well, have you not just been in that same situation? I hated the thought of her standing there, husband out of town, not knowing what the hey it is she needs, calls the nephew and he’s not calling back. You know she’s got a million other things to do that day too. I had to call her. And yes, I know her husband was out of town, I know about her nephew – we had the loveliest chat for about 10 minutes. Charles (the best man in the world) comes in as I hang up and asks who I was talking with. He did indeed know I was going to call this woman and tell her it was a wrong number. He didn’t expect us to have a conversation. (gigglefit)

I met a beautiful woman at my Doctor’s office a couple of weeks ago. I have “complex migraines.” And Post Traumatic Stress. (And a couple of thousand other things, as well) I drive the BELTWAY to and from work everyday. If you don’t know the Beltway, you just can’t imagine. It’s fast, or slow and sometimes both. Eighty mph to 0 in 3 seconds. Or less. Volume. Weaving. Well, I had an appointment that a.m. before work. I picked a Dr. office near my work. (I live in MD, work in VA. Around 38 miles. Should take, what? A half hour? Forty-five minutes? Nope – one to two hours. Five days a week.) So I’m late, of course, lost, because I usually go to the Dr. from my office, not from home. And I’m panicked. I’d missed my last appt. Got charged for it. The whole nine. Don’t/CAN’T miss today. I need my refills. Anyway. They have valet parking. Time I get there I’m already 10 minutes late. Finding a space will take 15 to 20 minutes more. I have no cash. Yes, it’s free valet parking, but still, ya gotta tip. I decide I’ll do it anyway. Let them park my car, run into the Dr. and have a migraine attack. Fine. ‘ere what. On the way out to pay, I helped a very nice lady find her way to the checkout. Told her to go ahead first, I’m not in a hurry. Sweet little boy and his daddy ahead of us both. We both talk to the little boy. She pays. Leaves. I pay. Leave. Start to panic, (again) because now I’m leaving and I don’t have a thing to give them. I’ll pretend to be snooty or something. Pretend I don’t know about tipping. Give the guy my ticket and off he goes to get my car. “Nice lady” comes out of the building. We exchange pleasantries again. She says, “How much do you usually tip?” Well, I have no filter from my brain to my mouth. I tell her usually a dollar or two. (Because truthfully I never have used the valet before!) Then, like some sort of I don’t even know what, I hear myself telling her. How embarrassed I am because I didn’t think I was going to use the valet, that I was running late and didn’t want to be later and I HAD to do it and now I have no money and I could crawl in a hole from the embarrassment. She’s says, “I have two dollars. Tell you what, you take one and tip that and I’ll use the other.” I’m horrified. Try to explain that I didn’t mean, didn’t want, I'm fine, really. So sorry! She basically told me she had the two dollars to tip with, what’s a dollar, it’s basically going to the same place anyway, why don’t I just hand them one and she’ll hand them the other one. I almost burst into tears. We actually hugged in the valet pickup! Couldn’t help myself – I hugged her neck. Had a tear. She did too. Actually told me what a nice person I am! How I had helped her? I didn’t do a thing! Where do these beautiful people come from?

And now there is Wil. Married mom. Two preschool kids. Training for Ironman. Teacher. I never met her. Don’t know where she lives. But she took the time to read my first blog post and just welcome me. Gave me encouragement. And then there was the William post. And the kindness Wil showed me was just beyond the beyonds. I never thought anyone would read it. Was actually worried that someone would read it. I haven’t gotten a chance to get back to her yet and thank her for everything. But I certainly will. And I’ll try to find someway to let her know how beautiful her heart is and how much what she has done means to me. It’ll never be enough and yet she’ll know and understand. I want to say “check out her blog,” but I want to ask first to be sure she won’t mind. If you do check it you’ll be awed and inspired. Thank you Wil!! I’m sending good thoughts, strength and anything else you may need!

Blessings to you all – the friends I have and the ones I’ve yet to meet!

Why

My entire reason for starting a Blog was to be able to have a place to wish my brother a Happy Birthday. Just sort of a (very) neo-pagan kind of way to send him a wish. Yes, I've written it on a piece of paper, burned the paper and "sent" it out to him. But I wanted something more permanent. A place where I (and anyone else who may choose to) could go and see that someone remembered. Someone cared and still cares. I know I'm certainly not the only one who remembers and cares, but I just thought there should be some sort of marking of the day. It's still "his" day. I don't have to worry if I'm upsetting someone by "saying it out loud." If I'm reminding them of hurt and pain they'd rather not unbury just now or just yet. And so here I am. This isn't the first blog I started for this purpose, but this one feels right. I think this will last. His birthday has passed this year, but I'll be here next year and remember him.

So, officially, this is for my brother: William Edward Marbaker. Born January 21, 1967. Died May 25, 2002. Son, brother, father, uncle. Smart, funny, the most beautiful, pure heart I've ever encountered. No one could make me laugh harder. Tears, not able to breathe laughter. I've laughed and laughed really hard. Even cried with laughter and lost breath since he's been gone. But never as long or as hard. He was the twin of my soul. We looked alike. We thought alike. We felt things so very deeply. I found my way through it and with it. He never could. He tried so hard. He fought so long. I truly believe his little (although it was HUGE, truth be told) heart just couldn't take the hurt and pain of this world. He was born out of his time. He understands now. He rests now. He's whole now.

And if I'm speaking the truth (and that is one thing I'll always do) the other side of him was not pretty. No one could make me laugh so much, so hard, with such abandon. And no other person did, or ever will, cause me so much pain. So very many tears. So much anger. Hurt. Sadness. RAGE.

William was bipolar. Manic-depressive. An alcoholic. Was the alcoholism a symptom of the disease? Which came first? It certainly did exacerbate it. There is so much history that needs to be told. So very many tragedies. Certainly more than a young boy/man should have ever had to deal with. By his sixteenth year he a lost more friends than I can begin to count. Horrible deaths. The favorite math teacher/wrestling coach. Killed helping another teacher put an antenna on the other teacher's roof. Electrocuted. The friend that had diabetes and died at the age of 14. Our cousin Billy, killed playing football. Another friend that went into the wood and shot himself in the head, aged 15. Two different friends, two different mass murders, mass family killings. In the one case the boy lived, although he is blind and brain damaged. His mother, father, and brother dead. His sister the one who killed them. He was 12. In their beds, while they slept. The other child didn't live. He was killed by his sister's "ex" boyfriend. In that house: Mother, 2 daughters, 2 sons. He shot at the baby and miraculously missed. Then he went upstairs to the bathroom, turned off the light and shot and killed himself. One of the daughters was my friend. I was there when it happened. I heard the shots, heard the screams. Heard when the screams abruptly stopped. And wondered why I lived. But that's for another day, perhaps. William carried all of these friends to their graves. I can't imagine what it must be like to feel the weight of your friend and know he's gone, you're holding him, but yet not. Certainly all of this had it's effects. All of these friends and more. Car accidents, his grandfather dying and having to be the one that told me our grandfather had passed. Our parents house burning when he was, what? Thirteen? They were in the house, our sister, pregnant, across the road, not know where they were. "Are they out?" William, out, alive, nothing but his underwear. Seeing everyone safe. Ten years later when our sister's house burned. The first one there, bring food. Working. Salvaging. He was in the Gulf war.

He found the drugs and drink early. Unfortunate that anyone has to find them at all. Tragic for some. I was one of his older sisters. Yes, I know he learned from me.

And it got so bad. I had to call the police one night. On my brother. He tried to kill me that same night. Tried to kill his girlfriend. Burned her clothes. The next day or two trying to kill me again. A screwdriver in his hand. Me, knowing this was no longer my own. Me, trying to shield this from his children. Taking his kids away with me. He held my family hostage one night with a needle. Threatened to kill them, himself. So many threats of death. Himself. Others. Trying to get him help. "He's bipolar, he'll need in-treatment to start. Hopefully we can manage this with meds in the future. No insurance? Oh, no, no. He's fine. Mistake. Depression. Alcohol. Send him home, he'll sober up in a few days. He'll be fine." He was fine alright. Fucked-up, Insecure, Neurotic, Emotional. Just FINE. He checked himself into the VA. They did their best by him I believe. Got him on meds. AA. He got a job. Driving truck. Again. The company found out he was bipolar. (He told them, he had to be honest, felt he was lying if he didn't tell them. Didn't matter he'd be diagnosed and undiagnosed a million times.) They told him to take some time off. Check with their Dr. That Dr. changed his meds. He had nothing but time. Nothing to do. Think, drink. Mom and his younger son saw him that day. Well his car anyway. The beautiful Camaro he had just bought, parked at the bar. His son begged to go in the bar and get him. Mother was at the end. Time to say no. Couldn't take the child in there to see what mess there might be this time. It would be home to them soon enough. He came home (he was staying with our parents at this point), got a box of crackers and took them into his room. Apparently he ate a few. Changed clothes perhaps. A shirt maybe. Went back out to a different bar. I don't know what happened there. If anyone does, I've not heard. He was coming back home. The girl in the other car was 17 years old. She would have graduated that June. It was 2:00 a.m. She wanted to be a special education teacher. She lived until 8:30 a.m. William was dead at the scene. Dead, I think, before he flew out the sun roof and skidded across the pavement. Before the flames started licking at his body. Before his ear was cut off and his arm severed. Too much information? Are you still with me? He was starting the most beautiful Viking tattoo on that arm. I can't grieve. Not fully. How does one feel bad for the man that left two amazing, handsome, intelligent children? He took a 17 year old girl with him. How do I live with that? How do I tell people how my brother died? Yes, people do ask. I know, I have seen, heard, felt the hate that child's, that beautiful, amazing, intelligent, giving, 17 year old girl's family has for me and mine. I can't blame them. I wish peace for them. I wish peace for us all. I'm so very, very sorry. And I can't fix it. Words don't help. Does William deserve to be remembered any other way other than the man, the drunk driver that killed a young woman?

I'm not asking for sympathy. As a matter of fact, I'm not asking for anything. Not for me, my family or my brother. I just needed to tell this. To have it written down. And once a year to say "Happy Birthday William."

Here I Am

OK, First post. This'll be a short one. I'm mostly just setting up and deciding how this will go. I've just had some wonderful spaghetti and salad and garlic bread from Ledo's here in Laurel. The best I've found so far for "real" Italian food here. Well, inexpensive "real" anyway. Izzy is absolutely pissed that he wasn't allowed on the table to share. Apparently Kaycee wasn't real happy either because she decided to try to chew the fish bowl. That's right. We keep a fish bowl for the "kids" to drink from. Not spoiled much. Did I mention the eight foot tall scratching post/perch they have? Perhaps I should also mention they're cats. I'll load some pictures as soon as I figure out how to do that. That's all for now, but I may be back later for more.