My mother had 12 kids. I’m the oldest living out of four now. I lost my baby brother about two weeks ago, maybe a little bit longer. I’m not too sure of the date because I’ve been depressed, on and off. I’ve not been able to sell my papers because of my depression either.
My brother was a peacemaker. He restored the calm in the family when there were arguments or fights, and I’m gonna miss him a lot. I looked up to him because, to me, he was more intelligent. He had more gifts than I did, as far as working the gifts go. To know him is to love him because he just had that kind of personality.
As an ordained minister, I married him to his first wife in the 80s, and they were married for nine years. I don’t practice ministry in churches anymore — I do it on the street to the homeless.
Every so often, when someone wants to listen, I tell them about what the Lord’s done for me and the drug addiction I used to have. I’m coming up on 20 years clean off crack cocaine in April, and that’s a big thing for me because it had a hold on me that I had a hard time letting go of. When I was on it, I didn’t care who I hurt, who I stole from or anything because I didn’t have a will — it willed me. In my opinion, the only way to get off a drug addiction is to do it cold turkey. I did it by making them lock me up because I needed more time than what I could get in rehab, so I took a 10-year sentence. And the only thing I regret about that is my mother and my other brother passed away while I was locked up, two weeks apart. I didn’t get to say goodbye.
I call my baby brother one of my big losses because cancer took him out. I’m a cancer survivor, since 1977. I got 80% of my stomach removed, and I’m still alive. But my brother’s gone, and he got his cancer years and years later. Cancer can take you out. Depression can make you want to take your life. So, be strong.
I’m being strong for my brother. I made a New Year’s resolution that I was never going to do more drugs, except what the doctor gives me. And I’m going to honor that promise for my brother — and myself and remaining family, too.