This is an intensely personal post but I need to share it and I
think you fine folks are the right ones with whom to share it. It has nothing
to do with fly fishing or saving wild salmon but this blog is also about life.
I am not using my brother's real name
My brother Steven was always everything I wanted to be in life. He was
charming, handsome, popular with girls and good in sports...I idolized him.
Steve served his country with distinction in Vietnam and was decorated
for his actions for heroism under fire. He came back in 1970 and in my eyes was
almost god like. It's typical for a younger brother to feel this way
and Steven was my hero.
Our mother was not a good mother. She seemed to resent us and never missed a
chance to tell us what burdens we were. Mom hounded Steve all through
high school and did not let up after his return from Vietnam so he made
himself scarce around our home in Southern California and I longed to be around
him.
When our father died in 1973 things really didn't change much with mom and
when Steve moved away she concentrated her scorn on me.
From his return from war in 1970 until last year I rarely saw Steve.
Sometimes we would go years without seeing each other. When mom passed away in
2003 Steve came up to Oregon for her funeral. It was good to see him and
spend time with him. He was still my hero and I figured he always would be. I
told him that I was always proud of him and was glad to be his kid brother.
In 2007 Steve's world crashed down on him. He lost the job that he had held
for almost 15 years and then in early 2008 contracted severe pneumonia that
lead to surgery and developed into a lung infection. Steve called and
asked if I would come down to South Lake Tahoe and help him with his recovery.
I was on the first plane out.
He was helpless and I did what any brother would do and helped him gain
strength. I cried as I left to come home as he still seemed so helpless. Thing
looked up for Steve later that year as he got a new job doing what he did
best.
Unfortunately, it lasted only 9 months and once again Steve was
unemployed with no prospects. I knew that my brother was always fond of alcohol
and, in fact, I was pretty sure he was an alcoholic but never knew to what
extent his alcoholism gripped him. Occasionally, he would call me in a very
intoxicated state but at other times he would be quite sober. We talked about
his moving to Oregon to start life over because the Lake Tahoe winters were so
severe.
Finally, in 2010, Steve's options ran out and the decision was made
that I would fly down to help him move up here and live in my home. He would
rent a moving van and I would drive it back since Steve had lost his
license due to a DUI conviction. I later learned he had accumulated three DUI
convictions.
The day came and off to Reno I flew to "save" my brother. He
assured me everything would be packed up and ready to go when I got there.
When I arrived, I discovered he hadn't packed anything. When I got out of
the cab at his apartment it was apparent he had been on a drinking binge and
was still very drunk. I was livid and entertained the idea of getting right
back into the cab and coming home. He was a drunken wreck. It was all I could
do to keep my temper while I packed Steve's belongings for the move to Oregon.
The thing was, my big brother, my hero, turned out to be a pathetic and
disgusting drunk.
I hoped things would change once I got him into a new environment. We had
agreed that if he were to move into my house that he could not drink there. My
wife made that very clear and I was in complete agreement. If Steve was
going to drink he would have to do it elsewhere. As time progressed, he would
go on monthly monumental drinking binges and towards the end of his stay in our
home he began sneaking booze into the house, holing up in his room for days at
a time, not even coming out of his room to shower.
In the nine months Steve lived with us he drifted deeper into
depression fueled by alcoholic binges involving cheap vodka and even cheaper
wine. It was one thing to deal with Steve about his drinking but to make things
even worse, he stole from me.
Unfortunately I had to do the one thing I would have never believed I would
have to do with my brother and that was to ask him to leavemy home. I had had
enough with his broken promise about not drinking in our home and
the disrespect he showed me. It troubles me deeply that it all came to
this but I had to think of my wife and daughter and my own health. I didn’t
know what was next for my brother but I knew I could not just stand by and allow
him to drink himself to death in my home.
He had to relive all the things he experienced during his tour of Vietnam in
order to get veterans benefits for post-traumatic stress disorder and that
was tough on him but he used it as further justification for returning to the
alcoholism that ruled his life. Steve was no longer my ideal. He was just
a sorry drunk that would not and could not control his drinking.
I learned a very hard lesson in all of this: I should never put anyone too
high on a pedestal because when they fall, as they often will, the one who gets
hurt most is me.
I still love my brother, he is blood and blood means something. I want
him to go to rehab but he refuses to do so and I am at an end as far
as helping him unless he does. I offered to attend AA meetings with him and
support him in any way I could but he still resists. Did I do the right thing?
I am struggling with feelings of doubt and betrayal and of course second
guessing myself but I did not know what else to do.
Sadly, I feel like I have lost him forever and will never get him back.
Update: I originally wrote this in 2011 and I have not seen him in almost 10 years. I'm not even sure where he lives anymore
