The Bobby blog

So Friday night I did something I haven’t done in a while.  I laid eyes on my brother Bobby.  Through the benefit of Skype he called me.  Seeing his name on my computer screen I readied myself.  My first instinct was to run, but the program has taught me to be a grown up and face my fears.  I don’t always do that but I’m getting better at it.

The small screen showed his face which was drawn.  His eyes looked overly big as there was no meat to balance his facial features.  He was pale and wore a baseball cap.  I could see his throat wrapped in bandages holding a trache tube which I tried to ignore.  I did this to make us both feel comfortable. 

I hail from an extreme catty clan.  His first words to me were “Wow sis you’re getting up there.”  Meanwhile he’s two years older than me (48) and looking like he’s 65.  I couldn’t conceal my annoyance and gave him a double middle finger which in hindsight I’d wished I could have refrained from.

I apologized for my actions and the conversation went on from there. 

I had a few goals while online.  They were:  Not to start crying, not get into an argument, and not say anything I’d later regret.

My brother is an alcoholic of the sickest kind.  The insanity in his life runs rampid.  He sat there trying to decipher HOW he became ill.  He’s been homeless for four years.   He had been living with my sister but after many years her good will and patience has given up.   She told him to leave and he has yet to forgive for it.  (Alcoholic behavior:  never being grateful for the years she had him live there ONLY when that goodwill ended).

He’s a grown man who should be working and supporting himself, but with alcoholics still active and sick they always see their misfortune as a direct result of something someone DID TO THEM!  Never did they find themselves at fault.

I love my brother but I know who he is.  Navigating conversation inspite of this can be dicey.  God gives me the patience and love to keep things in prospective.  To keep it in the day, which is what I did.

I asked him how he was feeling, how things were going.  I told him thanks for calling me.

I know I need to use whatever time he has left to make amends.  To be there for him.  I guess it’s the pessimist in me but I don’t see him surviving this.  Only God knows.  My guess is influenced by my experiences watching friends and family deal with cancer. 

Even under the best of circumstances good people die.  My brother is a good person, he’s just sick.