of the page. But, at the same time that I am trying to improve myself, I must also remember the destructive habits that got me to where I am today, and heal from past pains that I haven't attempted to confront yet. One of the more recent tragedies that has happened to me lately is the sudden loss of my olderbrother over the holidays. I was born late in 1981, but Peter was born early in 1979. He was the first of us 4 kids to be born, and this was after 2 miscarriages by my mother. He was their "miracle baby". For the most part of my life, I felt like Peter may have not liked having an annoying little sister around. But, we did have our special moments. We played duets together on the piano. He taught me how to ride a bike and took out my first tooth. He taught me about high school and how to drive. He was also the first person I told when I was pregnant. I told him because I was one of the first people he he came out to when he realized he was gay.
My parents, (God bless them), are not as open minded as my generation. Peter came out to me when he was 12. Jordan, (my 1st younger brother), got married and didn't tell mom & dad for a whole year because he didn't marry in our church. Erik, (my youngest brother), drinks occasionally and gave me several "anti-mormon" publications to read when I went home recently. I was pregnant and they didn't know until I was 5 months along.
Basically, mom & dad feel like, once the kids are out of the house, they've done their part. If you screw up after that, it's not their fault because they tried their best to raise you right. But, by us leaving the house, all it did was set us loose. When I joined the military in 2001, I had: --never kissed a boy --never swore --never smoked --never drank alcohol, coffee or coke/mt dew --never seen a rated R movie --never seen MTV (...you get the picture) I have still never drank or smoked, (I've kissed a boy, lol), but my point is, I did it because I was curious, and the constant message I got in my upbringing was, "If you do this, you're going to hell", but I did it anyway. I've also drank coffee, (and I liked it), but I don't feel the flames yet.
I know that I'm a good person, and to me, that's all that should matter to God. I still help others, I still am civil to those that betray me. I know I'm a good person.
Peter was a good person. I learned to play the piano by theory, (read books, took lessons), but Peter learned by sitting down and letting the music speak to him. When you listened to him touch those keys, you could feel the emotion, the passion, as if the music had it's own language and was trying to tell you something.
He didn't have that many friends in school. Church was the same way. All he had was his family in Ohio and out west, (where my dad came from). The older he got, the more he withdrew because of his secret. When he was older, the time came for him to serve a mission for our church, as all 19-year-old young men are asked to do. But, he was still struggling with that decision because of the way he still felt inside. That's when he has his accident. It almost killed him. He felt that God had spared his life. He was determined to pay Him back.
Two years later, living in Columbus, Ohio, he was right back to where he was, struggling with the feelings he was trying to deny. Finally, somehow my parents found out. They reprimanded him, took back some of his church things, and told him his eternal soul was in jeopardy.
He left Ohio for Florida. For the next 5-6 years he slept around, went to clubs, and tried many different types of drugs. My heart went out to him as one by one, his siblings felt his pain through the way our parents treated us as well. But, in his destructive downward spiral, he lashed out at us as well.
Then things went from bad to worse. He found out he had HIV & Hepatitis C, (whether from the drugs or unprotected sex, we don't know). This caused him to destroy himself even further, even getting arrested a few times. He wouldn't take my emails. He stole from his friends. At one point in early December, he called home to ask if he could come home to my parent's house for a Christmas visit. (My mother, about to have surgery, didn't want to risk an infection). He started losing weight, going into the ER every weekend.
Finally, on December 21, 2009, someone found him on a sidewalk. He had overdosed on heroin, crystal meth & cocaine. The EMT's got to him, and he was still alive. They said his heart was fighting so strong. But, he just didn't make it. My older brother...was gone.
I flew home a couple of weeks ago to pay my final respects. I was the first to speak at the memorial. I had written a 10-page talk, but as soon as I got up to the podium I put it away. I just had a sudden rush of memories. I told the crowd about my brother growing up, and how that's how I'll always remember him. Then, I said that I had promised myself last year to fix our fractured relationship in 2010. But, he didn't make it to 2010. Many people in the crowd came up to me afterwards saying that they weren't going to wait any longer to heal troubled relationships in their own lives. I'm glad I inspired them, but this doesn't help me to heal. This doesn't make everything alright with me and Pe
ter. With me and my parents. With me and God.I cried during my speech. I was going on and on about how I remembered him, and I just started crying. I mumbled "I miss my brother...", and then I sat down. I haven't wept at his passing yet. Maybe it's because we all kind of knew that this was going to happen for a long time, so it's not as much of a shock to us, (although, it still was, the way it happened). But, mostly, it's because I have shut myself off to any pain that befalls me in order to not deal with it. If anybody asks, I make a joke or change the subject. I have the sort of personality that I can tell if I open up to somebody that it won't help me, just cause me more pain. Talking to very few people in my life has made me feel better about any given situation. Mostly, I just have to work through it somehow on my own.
I don't know if I'm ready to heal yet from this thing with my brother. Now, I have to do all the work. But, am I just making it seem hard? Could it really be easier than I am making it?
I don't know. All I know is, my brother is gone, and it hurts. And, if I can find a way to mourn, grieve, and then heal from this.....then I may be on the right track.
--Harms
