I have a lot of brothers. Six to be exact. Some I know, some I don't. We have a big family. Eleven total. We fight, we get mad, but we have always loved each other.
I have one brother (Rich) that died of cancer. He was older but I knew him. I went and said goodbye when he was still alive. I cried when he died. But he is not the one I feel the loss for. I'm talking about Greg.
I always loved Greg. We were close. Just two years apart. Two years from Greg, two years from Denise. I was the "middle child." We were the Three Musketeers, together forever. Then the changes came. Too many changes.
Greg was in a terrible car accident and broke his back. Then I got married and moved away. Not long after that Dad died. Then Denise got addicted to drugs. Then things got better.
I moved back home. I wanted it to be like it was before the changes. I wanted the other two Musketeers to be a part of my life again. I wanted it so bad that I couldn't see that it was too late. Years of drug abuse had changed Denise, made her angry and bitter. Years of painful back problems and too many pain pills and alcohol buried the real Greg too deep to be ever found again.
We were camping in New York with Greg. We were having the best time. Then I noticed that he was saying things. Little things to push my button. I shoved my feeling to the side. He's my brother. I love him. I have him back.
Then it happened. The moment in which he was dead to me. He said something so mean and so horrible that my heart snapped in half. For a moment I lost control. He told me to leave. I did.
I tried to go back. I tried to find that love again, either in me or in him. I finally realized that it wasn't there. It wasn't there because that wasn't my brother. He was gone to me forever.
Is anybody listening?
I have one brother (Rich) that died of cancer. He was older but I knew him. I went and said goodbye when he was still alive. I cried when he died. But he is not the one I feel the loss for. I'm talking about Greg.
I always loved Greg. We were close. Just two years apart. Two years from Greg, two years from Denise. I was the "middle child." We were the Three Musketeers, together forever. Then the changes came. Too many changes.
Greg was in a terrible car accident and broke his back. Then I got married and moved away. Not long after that Dad died. Then Denise got addicted to drugs. Then things got better.
I moved back home. I wanted it to be like it was before the changes. I wanted the other two Musketeers to be a part of my life again. I wanted it so bad that I couldn't see that it was too late. Years of drug abuse had changed Denise, made her angry and bitter. Years of painful back problems and too many pain pills and alcohol buried the real Greg too deep to be ever found again.
We were camping in New York with Greg. We were having the best time. Then I noticed that he was saying things. Little things to push my button. I shoved my feeling to the side. He's my brother. I love him. I have him back.
Then it happened. The moment in which he was dead to me. He said something so mean and so horrible that my heart snapped in half. For a moment I lost control. He told me to leave. I did.
I tried to go back. I tried to find that love again, either in me or in him. I finally realized that it wasn't there. It wasn't there because that wasn't my brother. He was gone to me forever.
Is anybody listening?
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