Sad Sister

9-10-12


I know I shouldn’t. I know that logically speaking, there is nothing I have done wrong. Why is it then that I feel so much guilt?

On this upcoming Sunday, my brother, Doug, would have been 43. Sadly, he didn’t make it to 42. He managed to end it all the weekend I turned 36. I chatted with him via Facebook on the day before my birthday, unsure of how to deal with his recent manic episode. I didn’t invite him to come join my family and our dad for lunch, trying to avoid any kind of drama that might come up. He and our dad had only recently begun to talk again after 10 years, so I didn’t want to muck things up there. Plus, I had only been in communication with him for a couple of years and I wanted to still have that happy brother/sister bond.

When I first emailed with Doug back a couple years back, I was thrilled. Here I was going to be able to have a relationship with my “normal” brother. My full blood brother, Matt, has never been one to be able to bond with me in any way that I deemed functional. His autism has always strained my interactions with him and ultimately I feel awkward around him and don’t know how to even socialize with him. So instead, I thought that dealing with the manic/bi-polar half-brother would be easier.

Neither one is easy. They both seem to come with their own demons.

Matt has always been described as high functioning. He has a driver’s license. He has held a job much of his adult life, and even had a paper route for something like 8 years. He can manage going to the store on his own. He even handles a little of his own finances. In many ways, Matt is ok in life.

He does have social issues. His maturity is somewhere close to 7, if not younger in some situations. He is prone to arguments, and doesn’t deal well with change. Recently, though, he has grown in some ways. We have been calling it his angst filled teenager years. Sure, they are a good twenty years too late, but I suppose 35 is the new 15, right?

Matt has gained some friends, and has even taken to hanging out with them while playing video games or going to lunch. They are good kids (mind you, they are also autistic grownups that work with him) and overall it has made a difference in Matt’s independence. When my folks’ went on a trip where Matt was allowed to come along, he opted to stay home for the week. This was very much unlike him, especially since only a few years ago he would have been upset with them just going out to dinner without him.

But as we all know, teenagers don’t make good decisions at times. They are prone to random outbursts and in some situations, they can be downright crazy.

When you couple this kind of emotional roller coaster with a guy who is built like a linebacker and has autism, you are courting danger.

Matt has recently reminded me of Dr. Bruce Banner. He is mild mannered over all, but then the “other guy” comes out in full force. It doesn’t matter who triggered it, it is in everyone’s best interest to run.

This brings us to a little over a week ago. Matt had been playing with my two boys when Bobby, my 7 year old started antagonizing him. Mind you, it was not mean spirited, and if anything it was a back and forth gentle ribbing between uncle and nephew.

Then it turned ugly.

Matt got the twisted and contorted look on his face that is synonymous with his violent outbursts. You could see his shoulders tense up and his eyes glaze over and even his hand started to mold into the fist that is out of my nightmares. He leaned over Bobby who was sitting in front of him while Matt was on the couch behind him. He then said that he would kick my son’s ass.

It was a voice from a hell deep inside his soul. I don’t even know if he could hear his own voice. I do know that I did.

I was sitting across from them and I quickly replied to Matt that I would toss his ass out the window if he laid a finger on Bobby. It was the finger snap that brought him back to reality, and things calmed quickly. Bobby only laughed, especially since he never caught on to the danger vibe. He did trust that his mama would defend him no matter what, though.

A week later, I would be dealing with Dax, my 6 year old, crying as we were leaving my parents’ house. I asked him what was wrong and he informs me that Matt had hit him. I was sure it must be a misunderstanding. How could this really have happened? Sure I always worried, but would it really go down like this?

I turned to Matt, in front of my boys and our parents and asked him if he hit Dax. “Well, he deserved it.”

It was difficult to not become unhinged right then and there.

In an odd way, it was good I had so many witnesses. It was good my children were there to see how I would deal with such a delicate situation. I was able to breathe for a moment, compose myself and say simply to him to not bother coming to the boys’ soccer game in the morning. With that, I gather our belongings and my children and we headed out.

My mom and I talked about the incident afterwards. In a slight twinge of my own angst, I was sure that she would once again side with Matt, as she had always seemed to do as we were growing up. Matt doesn’t know any better or I should know not to push him were the words flooding into my head. Instead, she and I were able to speak Mother to Mother this time. We were able to discuss what had really occurred and how it was that between the boys, Matt and my dad, all 4 of them were really playing much too rough all afternoon. This then resulted in Dax and Matt having some kind of disagreement which led to Dax pushing or hitting Matt, and Matt hitting him back.

Don’t get me wrong. I am still livid pissed at Matt. But does it do me any good to be mad? It is the same mad I have at Doug who has been explaining suicide by shotgun to my sons who only know Uncle Doug as the guy who brought them Star Wars toys and who was really funny. Uncle Matt gets violent when he is upset. Uncle Doug was sick and didn’t know how to deal with it any other way. The uncles I have provided my boys with come with a lot of instructions manuals that apparently are out of print.

Of course, Bobby and Dax seem to deal just fine with their crazy family. Even though I didn’t want Matt around the boys, I let Dax make the decision to allow Matt to come to the soccer game. Bobby still talks fondly of his Uncle Doug, even though really he only got to hang out with him a handful of times. These boys have gobs of forgiveness built in that has not been snuffed out through years of adulthood. I envy their patience.

This leaves me, a self-described oldest middle only child in my family. I didn’t get to grow up with a little brother that I could play with in the same ways. I didn’t get to have my older brother around to take care of me. I was alone with the shadows of two brothers who have demons that took one of them and is forcing me to make tough decisions on the other one.

In my house are reminders that Doug is gone, which only adds to this strange guilt I try to suppress. Did I leave him hanging? Was I too nonchalant about his condition? Is it my lack of an invite that allowed him to end it that weekend?

I then feel like the world’s worst sister since I still have a living brother, who ultimately wants to be a part of my life. He adores the shit out of the boys and despite his lack of control at times, he does very nice things for them all the time. Yet I don’t even want to deal with that brother now.

I have placed all of my affection into one brother I hardly knew and have distanced myself from the only one around. I have allowed my being to wallow in a strange place that is surrounded by fear and good intentions.

I know that my primary concern in life is keeping the boys safe. I have to do this not only by keeping them out of harm’s way, but also teaching them lessons on how to deal with different walks of life. I have to show them the proper way to deal with a situation like mine, even though I hope they never have anything even remotely similar.

So I push forward. I will still visit with my parents and Matt on Fridays and will be happy to see them at games on Saturdays. I know that I will also be making sure I watch for triggers and will not allow Matt and the boys to be alone. I will make sure to send kind words and affection to Doug’s mom on Sunday, knowing how difficult each passing year will be. She loves seeing pictures of my kids, and I know how upsetting it is that that is the closest thing to grandkids she will now get. I will try hard to not get down on myself that day, wondering what if.

I am a sad sister, and I worry that I have failed in more ways than I even know yet.