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Last night I went to visit my brother (45-years old) in a city jail. As I
walked into the claustrophic-sized visitation room, enclosed with 3 solid
walls and a Plexiglas "store-front" type window, I gasped as my youngest
brother came into focus on the other side of the Plexiglas. I am the
oldest at 53, but he looks so much older than me. And not a "grown old
gracefully" look either, but a hard-life, chewed up and spit out older.
Gone are his boyish looks and his good physique, replaced with an anorexic
looking profile. Where once usable teeth abode, now live rotten, decaying
pieces of nothing I recognize. It makes my eyes ache and my skin crawl to
look at his mouth. It destroys my heart to look at his face. Intensely he
chanted how he had to get out of that jail, how he HAD TO, JUST HAD TO get
his "medication," (methadone, alcohol, anti-depressants, heroin, oxycontin,
or whatever his medication is at the moment, and it is whatever he can
get). Over an over and over, "get me out! get me out! get me out! I HAVE
TO GET OUT! I HAVE TO GET OUT! I HAVE TO GET OUT ! The intensity of his
words physically moved me back further into the little room. They made my
face hot. They made my stomach hurt. They made my legs weak. I wanted my
"medication"...ESCAPE! ESCAPE from this little, depressing box of a room.
Skipping back, it was in this very same jail that he stayed when he was
about 16 years old. He stayed there for 3 weeks, in a little room, alone.
I remember my parents were allowed to bring a "carry-out" into the jail,
as his stay was over the Thanksgiving Holiday. I remember there was talk
of suicide. I remember there was talk of not having a bowel movement in 2
weeks. He wound up in this jail because a kid who got caught red-handed
breaking and entering a party store, said my brother had been with him.
The kid subsequently confessed that it wasn't my brother. So he spent the
jail time even tho' he was innocent. But even then, drinking/drugging was
an integral part of his routine. And so even tho' innocent that specific
time, he was involved in evil. And evil came knocking on his door.
Fast forwarding, my youngest brother is in Florida with my oldest brother
(this brother was one year younger than I). They are homeless. Sleeping on
the beaches and drugging. My oldest brother is a Marine Veteran, his last
vestige of normalcy. The Veteran's Hosp. assisted him in his drug abuse.
He's diagnosed with schizophrenia. What came first? the severe
drug/alcohol abuse? or the schizophrenia??? Doctors don't know. My
youngest brother leaves the oldest in Florida & returns to Michigan. We
get a call. "Hello. Is this the djfldfjsdfj residence? I'm very sorry, but
Michael committed suicide. He jumped out of the 13th (I believe it was)
floor of the (forgot the name) hospital." My oldest brother is dead.
The funeral day arrives. My youngest brother is at the funeral. So is the
middle brother. The middle one coming all the way from Jackson, Michigan.
He's handcuffed and has a belly shackle around his waist to his feet. But
he looks great. Clean... good skin color. He's not addicted now. He's in
prison doing 15-25 years for armed robbery. Drug addicts need lots of
money and aren't able to work.
My sister, the youngest, fights her own addiction demon, alcohol. She's in
Florida right now in a program. She's called a dual-diagnosis - an
addict/psychiatric illness person. Again, what came first, the addictions
or the psychiatric illness. Doctors don't know, but I think I do. All
three of them, my youngest brother, my middle brother, and the youngest of
us all, my sister, have non-curable diseases. It's no mystery how that
happened.
It used to be that when they were at their most down and out, I would have
hope and say well there's time, they'll kick this addiction and have a
clean, healthy life. They won't always be a stranger to peace & happiness.
But last night, when I saw my youngest brother in that city jail, it
struck me right between the eyes, time is running out. Their lives are now
drawing to a close. No longer opening before them like a flower, but
wilting in the twilight of the season.
I brought a Bible to the City jail for my youngest brother. I couldn't
give it to him directly. I had to give it to the officer to check out
first. As I left the jail, sobbing, and got into our truck with my
husband, we saw the officer running across the street. My husband got out
of our truck and met him in the middle. I stayed in the truck, where it
was safe. Where I could hear nothing more. The officer said my brother
refused the Bible. It was so striking. Here was a man I never laid eyes on
before, and yet, he cared enough about the Bible to make sure I got it
back. Where, on the other hand, my brother just flat out rejected God's
Holy Word.
Don't you reject God. Accept Jesus Christ as your Savior, and have Him
transform your very life. Have him break the chains that bind you to your
addiction. "So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed." ~~John
8:36
A brother, as seen thru' the eyes of his sister
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