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Sunday, September 15, 2013

What's Done is Done

I haven't been here in months. Months! Honestly, (and we all know it) I only come here in times of confusion, frustration, anger, and what have you. I come here to get it out there and I don't care who listens and who thinks this is a pile of worthless shit on the internet.

You read it and care, or you read it and think, "who gives a shit?"

I get it.

Been busy as hell trying to make something, anything of myself. After years upon YEARS of soul searching and following meandering paths I thought were right, I found what I'm meant to do and only, ONLY because it somehow...in some way... fell into my lap.

It's as if I just had to grow into a pair of shoes that were just too damned big until now. Ever feel that way?

That's for another day.

Today, I'm angry as hell. I don't care if it's out on the internet. I don't care if it's out there for the world to see. I'll post it up everywhere because I'm mad as hell. There is no more "getting over it", there is no more "moving on", I don't even believe that there is any more "forgiveness" left.

I am tired.

I was tired 20 years ago.

Now, I am just god damned exhausted and I am done.

Just done...

At first, I was hurt. I cried for hours when I heard the news (again, I heard the news). But for what? What was I crying for?

What was I crying over?

It was hard to remember. I couldn't recall. It was a vapor-maybe just a hint of a ghost floating through memory-

now just buried along with any recollection of happiness.

Mud soup on back yard swings, a game of 4-square on the street.

All I remember anymore now, is just sadness and hurt. All else has been erased from memory.

All I can think as I'm sitting here is nothing and everything and mostly, why?

The person I knew died years ago when I was still a kid. He is dead.

I realize this is reading like a poem, but that's how I see things: a swirl of pictures and still frames and happy times that seem at least 100 years and 100 feelings away. At least, in terms of my brother, or the brother I once knew.

He is gone and he has been gone. Thankfully, I was able to come to terms with that years ago.

Alcoholism took him from me.

It took him from all of us and now his wife suffers right along with the rest of us.

"But I love him", she says.

We all say that.

I've had enough though. Enough. We all hear stories about people and their "estranged" relatives and we sit there and we judge: how could you ever give up on your blood?

No. it isn't easy.

Too many times I've tried to walk away and I couldn't. It was guilt. My parents, my grandparents, my whoever telling me: "He's your brother. You have to stand by him."

But at what expense?

I had children. I have children. They have no idea who he is. I am both thankful and immensely sad. I had wonderful Uncles. I still do. My children don't know their Uncles. None of them.

Some by their doing, some by mine.

At this point, I don't want my kids to know Uncle Sean. They only know the good parts. I never wanted any of them to know him as long as they have been alive. He's been the skeleton in my closet...this dark secret that I hold.

My parents might be angry if they are reading this, but at the same time, I am sure they understand: I love my brother. I can't like him anymore.

There is too much now.

Too much.












1 comment:

  1. I pray that you live as blessed by God and none of your children, unlike one of mine, take the destructive path of substance abuse. If so, first comes denial, then clinging to faint hope, and we who still love as parents yet pray. Pastor Tom

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