The thing about looking back on your childhood is the good old days seem so good. My older brother suffered from emotional issues, something that wasn’t addressed very well in the past. He was good looking, tall, but troubled. He was also very funny and once said that his best days were when he could get someone to laugh at a corny joke. When he graduated from high school, he got a job, but this was during the Vietnam War and he had a high draft number. He decided to enlist in the military so he could choose where he would be stationed. He joined the Air Force and selected Germany and the Panama Canal as possible assignments. Unfortunately, he was assigned to the Panama Canal where the locals weren’t too happy with Americans. During his stay, he had a nervous breakdown and was transferred back to Andrew’s Air Force Base in Maryland. When we went to visit him, he was totally zoned out on Thorazine. This was not the brother I grew up with, he was a broken soul. Eventually, he was honorably discharged from the Air Force as 100% disabled and would get a job at our local post office for a year, before that was too much for him. He worked for a toy store as a seasonal employee during Christmas but once again this proved too stressful for him. Holidays were really hard on him. A lot of times he would sign himself in to VA Hospitals when things were overwhelming him. My parents did everything they could for him, but were told the best thing to do was ban him from their house because of the effect he was having on them. For years he lived with them, but when my father’s health started to decline because of strokes, they found him other temporary housing until he was able to buy a home nearby. His first diagnosis was manic depressive, so there would be days and nights when he couldn’t sleep and he was in a really good mood only to have that come crashing down and have days when he couldn’t get out of bed. He would have a super clean house on the good days, not so clean on the bad days. He would go for walks in the middle of the night for miles and miles. My parents were always there to support and encourage him the best they could. My dad would have to drive him to the VA hospital when thing were overwhelming him because my brother couldn’t get a license. Over the years my husband and I had five children and my brother would visit with my parents, or we would take a 45 minute ride down to his home to visit with him. He loved his nieces and nephews and would go with them to a playground near his home. He met us at the Philadelphia Zoo one time, but he was drunk, and my husband and I were very nervous about that. My brother said he was going to go back to his house on the bus. For years, he suffered with emotional issues and when it was available to him alcohol problems. As long as he stayed on his new medicine Lithium he was pretty stable. At one point he overdosed on Lithium and almost died. Luckily my Mom and I were able to get him to the Emergency Room that time. His struggles continued for many years. There were happy times during these years, too. My husband and I told my brother in November of 1994 that we were expecting another baby in May of 1995 and he was very excited by the news. In early December he was spending a weekend at our cousin’s home to learn more from her about photography, when tragically her house burned and they both lost their lives. My brother had just turned 45. It was a devastating loss for my mother and my aunt and our families. My brother and cousin had a joint funeral and burial. Several weeks later, I had to call a psychologist at the VA Hospital to cancel my brother’s appointment and was told by the doctor that my brother was a wonderful person but that he had a devastating illness. Finally, I understood that my brother couldn’t help himself to change and really was a victim of mental disease. I miss my brother.
