Once upon a time I had a big brother who would joke around with me, be goofy, teach me how to play the violin, help me audition for plays and who would make every Christmas so much more exciting because it belonged to us. That brother I loved has been dead for over 20 years.
Erik was from my Dad's first marriage and still a good 12-14 years older than me. It didn't matter though. It was as if we were the same age. My memories of him always make me smile. I was his Krissy and he was, well he was my friend.
20+ years ago Erik died. He became a crack addict. He became unpredictable, a con artist, liar, thief, everything a person tries to avoid. The good in him died the second the effects of crack struck his blood.
Years and years I remember my Mom taking me in the middle of the night to go searching for him in crack neighborhoods, knocking on doors to see if he was there. Always trying to get him back, back to my friend, back to being my big brother Erik because my Mom always (and even now) believes people can change and hides behind ignorance of reality.
After countless failed step houses and rehab stays I just gave up on him. I had to in order to move on. So now I mourn who he was, who I miss, who I loved. The man he is today breaths and his heart beats but the soul is gone, he is the walking dead.
He's been in and out of prison for at least 10 years and a large amount of that time was for tax fraud and the rest all drug related. Each time he got out he'd go into another treatment center, find God, say he's changed, has his priorities in check and a few days will pass, a couple weeks maybe and he's disappeared again on a crack binge and back in jail.
19 years ago he met a woman named Jackie who he shared his crack addiction with, they had a son, Erik Jr. None of us knew this baby boy was my brother's until suddenly he and his Mother appeared back in Sarasota and any doubts anyone had of who his Father was disappeared. He's a spitting image of his Father and the first time I spoke with him he thought he could "cure" him, make him better because he was what he had been looking for and now that they were reunited he would be better. Erik didn't change and did the same thing he's been doing for over 20 years. He disapeared, went on a crack binge and wound up back in prison breaking this child's heart, my Nephew's heart.
Now...now my heart breaks for him, this lost soul, because I so vividly remember that pain, that desperation for a parents affection and undying need to fill this void inside your soul that only a Mother or Father can fill.
Having recently been thinking about good memories of people that I wished I didn't have I was reminded of my brother, my Erik. So I picked up the phone and I called my Mom as she still keeps track of him and what prison or recovery house he is at the moment. I found out he was in prison again at the Coleman Correctional Facility in north Florida for violation of probation relating to drugs. She then informed me that he was going to be released soon and go to a court mandated Salvation Army facility for 20 some odd days. This didn't affect me, I didn't have an ounce of emotion only thinking, "what a fuck up". It was what followed that broke me a part.
I was informed that Erik intended to complete his stay here in Florida and upon his release date would be moving to Mississippi to live with his now 19 year old son and the woman he had a crack based relationship that resulted with a precious gift of an innocent child. I felt like a link formed almost immediately pulling me to this child, this little me; a Krissy.
So I tried to convince the mother, who has only been off crack for 12 years and has no income and makes her son work to support the household which forced him to drop out of school. I offered up different ideas on how they could relearn to trust Erik if there was any trust left in him. I didn't expect it to go anywhere and it didn't. I knew that going in but I felt that I had to try. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't reach out to this child, a child who reminds me so much of myself and who's pain I share and experienced.
My Nephew, Erik Jr., is numb and deeply depressed and I hurt for him. I know there is nothing that I can do to "fix" him but to let him know that he's not alone, that someone, an Aunt he never knew he had but so desperately wanted, knew his pain. And sometimes, just sometimes just knowing someone relates and knows what you are going through and the people involved can be that string that keeps you from delving deeper into the depths of darkness.
So for the first time in 10 years I plan on facing my brother. Sit in front of him, let him see my face, who I have become, and I will look back and see the shock that shall shower his face as this day was never going to happen and wouldn't if he didn't have this wonderful boy that NEEDS stability and my brother, the walking dead who will forever be a perpetual drug addict, is not going to help his son instead he will only further his pain. I don't know what the outcome is going to be but I know I can't and probably won't change his mind because he is in an addicts mindset where a score is more important than your love, your heart. BUT, I feel it's time. It's time I face him and bury him as they do those that have stopped breathing.
I'm nervous, scared and yet oddly confident with a sense of inner strength I haven't felt in a very long time. It's time.
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