I Get It!

Dear Tony,

I grew up with you being two years older than I, and while young, I copied many of your ways. There came a time, though, that your ways seemed out of the ordinary.

You laughed on the day of the funeral. You cried over a missing gerbil. You anticipated the day of the reunion, and then hid in the woods the whole day. You were angry at the police for always searching your car. God told you to do it, whatever it was.

Sometimes it was hard to be around you, with your constant giggling over serious matters. But I know now. I understand.

I understand that you did not think it was funny when Granny died, but that you were expressing your grief the only way you knew how.

I understand that the gerbil, George, was the only thing in this world that depended on you. You needed to feel needed.

I understand that you are anxious around large groups of people, and that is why you hid in the woods. I feel such compassion for you now because I know how much family means to you. Now that you are out of state, and you call me nearly every night, I know.

I understand that the concept of the police searching your car was just the paranoia associated with schizophrenia.

I understand that you really did hear voices, and that the only explanation your mind could come up with was that they were that of God. Professionals say it is a type of post-traumatic stress disorder. Dad came down hard on you, and I imagine you are hearing his voice belittling you.

I know, dear brother, and so I am as patient as I can possibly be with you- no matter what jabs come from the rest of the family- because I love you, and I understand.

Love always,
Cheryl