When Loved Ones Hurt

I have a good friend in the hospital. At least, I think I still have a friend.

A long, long time ago, when I moved out after getting married, my little brother went off the deep end. He was adopted by my parents and we loved him dearly. He was born with fetal alcohol syndrome, so he was prone to just about anything addictive. This time it was huffing paint. My parents found him in the living room with paint all over and him stoned out of his mind. He proceeded to jump out of a large plate glass window and run away. My parents had to call the police because he was so uncontrollable. It took a half a dozen grown policeman to apprehend him, and he wasn’t that big. Its amazing what drugs will do to you.

Meanwhile, I didn’t know any of this had happened. My other brother moved to Phoenix and I don’t have other family in the area. All I knew was that my parents weren’t anywhere to be found for days. I started searching and wondering. I never thought to look at the living room window. All I knew was the house was dark and nobody ever answered the door.

I don’t blame my parents one bit. They went through the worst of the worst. They were in a hospital with my brother and he was strapped to the bed. They were worried sick. I don’t blame them that they never called me. They didn’t leave a note or anything. Maybe if they knew I was worried for them, they would have called or something. It wasn’t fair to me. But my brother was the priority, and I completely understood.

Mind you, I was raised in a loving but respectful household. I knew not to talk back to my parents. We were always mindful of our position in the family. One time when I was an older teenager, I talked back to my Mom and basically stopped her from trying to give me a spanking. I was too old for that and I was a wrestler in high school. Well, that news got to my Dad and he wasn’t too happy about it. It was the one and only time he threatened to throw down with me. I sorely regretted that and I never stepped over the line again. Well, maybe until this incident with my brother.

I mean, I was somewhat hysterical. I didn’t yell, but I had some stern words for my parents. I was training to be an Army Drill Instructor at the time, so I knew how to yell. I didn’t have a clue what had happened to them. Then, my Dad being my Dad; he put me in my place. He told me I was in the wrong, which in a way I was. I was showing I cared, but what they went through was worse. My anger quickly melted into empathy and compassion. He was completely right. I had no right to be angry at them for leaving me in the dark.

My friend left me in the dark too. She is in the ICU and in a really bad state. I’ve been so worried. There isn’t anyone there to contact me since I live some distance away. And she is really not in a situation to send and receive messages. The not knowing is the worst for me, but nothing compares to what she is going through. Then I open my big mouth and lash out looking for information. I’m hopeful for her return to full health. But I’m doubtful I have a friend anymore. I think it is possible to care so much that you freak out. I freaked out. I’ve done it before with my parents and brother.

My brother died some years back. He was found at the bottom of a tall bridge in Washington State. We don’t know if it was suicide or something else. I’m hopeful for my friend. I really wish her well. But I’ll be quiet now and try not to worry anymore. She’s in God’s hands now.

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