Down the Rabbit Hole

Many the Miles

My brother is back in jail. I've been thinking about him everyday. I pass the prison where he is every night on my commute home. Its hard not to ignore the knot of pain in my stomach when that large, imposing building looms up alongside the highway, mercilessly visible through the bare tree branches. I'm struck by the familiar pangs of sorrow but also relief. Its odd because while prisons don't number among the safest environments in the world, at least I know he's getting meals, he's not likely to be using drugs or alcohol and he won't endanger anyone else while he is there. Its like having the threat of any potential trauma put on hold. This is his second run incarceration so the shock and shame has not claimed me as it did the first time. I won't be visiting this time. I don't think I want to have another conversation through the filthy prison phones or see him in his prison garb. Or worse yet, try to measure his remorse or guilt through prison glass. Instead, I just think about him..several times a day. I wonder where the little boy has gone and if there was more I could have done to keep him from getting so lost. He feels lost to me, and I feel that lose so much more acutely than ever before. I believe he is an addict and with that belief comes the need once again to fortify myself for more pain. I know how stories like this can end and I can't bear the thoughts that creep insidiously into my mind. My fiance tried to comfort me the other night, perched on the arm of the couch, telling me it would be okay. He believes that less than I do I know, but I was grateful for his attempt. He's not seem much of my brother that's given him cause to have faith in him and he knows even less about the person he was before all of this. He just understands that he's my brother and that this is difficult for me in many ways for many reasons. I love my brother. I miss his presence in my life but I fear for him.