I am now 26 in Rehab for drug use.
If it wasn’t for drug dealers in this world it would be a lot happier and better place to live. There would be less crime and less deaths that happen for no good reason.
For those who sell drugs think twice, nothing good ever comes from it. You could end up in jail or dead, but you will end up losing a lot of your family and friends.
Adam S.
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I looked up as I was helping at the Food Bank and saw him. His face lit up in a big smile and he came over and hugged me, saying “Hi, Sis.” I was so happy to see him. Once a month, just like clockwork, my brother David was there with his friends seeking some groceries. Once a month was all I saw him.
David is a drug addict. He has been on meth and cocaine off and on for nearly 30 years and while he has been in rehab several times, he seems to backslide as soon as he gets out. The drugs have destroyed his ability to understand a lot of things and he gets memories mixed up in a big way. He insists that so and so happened at such and such time and it is easier to just nod in agreement than to argue with him.
Some of the family cringe when they see him coming or when the county jail number shows up on caller I.D.. but when I see him at the Food Bank, I am reminded of the big brother I had way back when. He goes around excitedly telling everyone I am his baby sister. Sometimes he does not have his identification on him but they know him as he is a regular. They just look over at me, asking if I vouch for him being who he claims to be and I say yes, he is my big brother and I give him a big hug.
My brother was not always a drug addict. Being the oldest, he played sports and the prettiest girl in school crushed on him. But shortly after they graduated, before they got married, she was killed in an accident along with her sister and parents, and David took to using drugs. He changed almost overnight.
The family tried in many ways to get him to get help over the years. Our younger brother is always bailing him out of jail when he is found walking around in the middle of night, unsure of where he is. An officer told us he was looking for Tara. I cried. Tara had been his high school sweetheart, the one who died.
Still, for just a moment when our eyes meet across the room, I see the big brother I love inside of the man who threw everything away for drugs. Sometimes I pray that Tara is up there somewhere and sees David and how much he needs help. For a long time I didn’t believe that…until last week.
I was sitting in the restaurant having lunch with my girlfriends that Saturday he came up and gave me a big hug. He smiled charmingly at my friends as I introduced them. Before I could say who he was, he told them all I was his baby sister. They looked at me questioning.
Yes, this was my brother. This was the guy who had done drugs for the last ten years, who could not hold a job, who had gotten to the point where all he did was sit home and snort crack. He noticed my ring, the reason why my friends and I were out that day, a celebration of my engagement as we planned the wedding.
“What? Stacy, you have been married about six times already, come on.” My girlfriend, Carla, leaned in and asked “He really doesn’t know you very well to be your brother, does he?”
No, he did not. My brother had left mentally years ago. He put drugs ahead of family, he was not there for our mother’s surgery or our father’s funeral. He only called one of us when he needed money or to be bonded out of jail. Daryl just could not be bothered by anything except getting his next fix.
He asked when I was getting married and I told him on our dad’s birthday. He shrugged and hugged me and said, “Call me.” How could I call someone who did not have a phone? Who did not ask how our mom was, how the rest of the family was, and who could not even keep himself straight from day to day.
Then he leaned in and whispered that he needed me to take care of his dinner bill. He left his wallet at home, he claimed. He handed me the ticket without waiting for an answer and kissed me on the cheek then told his waitress his baby sister was taking care of his tab.
That is what having a big brother on crack does. You only see him when he wants something, he tells lies, he can not remember his own little sister has never been married and he hits you up for money one way or the other even if it is not to pay directly for his drugs.
My friends leaned in and hugged me or touched my hand and said “It’s okay.” A couple of them had family members who had been into drugs and they understood. They promised to get me through any future storms with my brother if they occurred. Still, as I watched Daryl walk away and pulled out an extra twenty dollar bill to pay for his lunch, I felt a touch of sadness as I realized that my big brother had probably already forgotten seeing me in just those few minutes.
