Brothers in crisis: well, it runs in the family.

This Friday, Tom's girlfriend of 5+ years (mythical Tom, the eldest), the one for whom he found a real job and started an engagement ring savings account, dumped him. She has been seeing someone else for a while now. He finally found out about it. They weren't living together, but she was the reason he was still in Cleveland. She was the bridge between Tom and me. I'm heartbroken for him... he became human in her presence. For all the things I dislike about him, most are forgiven for his sweetness with the women he dates. He opened something to her that he never allows his family to see. I'm devastated for him.

And I'm devastated at the thought that he and I will have to approach each other unaided. At Christmas, holidays, birthdays... Sara was my comrade. Lois, Cripp's wife, is good for some moral support, but Sara was the one who slaved in the kitchen with me, who let me vent about my father, who shared a good eye-roll here and there as my family spun out of control. I already have a Christmas gift for her. I haven't gotten a single thing, haven't even imagined gifts for anyone else.

That same Friday night, Smacks called 911 on his ex's brother-in-law, who had taken 20 Percocet and found a gun to finish the job.

Is life really like this? Is this all we get? I don't always like my brothers, but they don't deserve these things. I get these pangs for them... I want to burn all the hurdles in their lives. I want to clear a path for them. They're trying so hard.

I think of my life, how I'm mostly ashamed of it. I have nothing to tell them when they call me, just the barest updates about my job. I think of all the shit they deal with, and how I'm just another pile for them to plow through. I know that the things that happened to them this weekend have nothing to do with me. I also know that as much as I love them and want things for them, I do not make my brothers' lives easier. How can I be so fierce toward the people who hurt them and leave myself out? I can't. And, as I may have made obvious by now, I don't.

I talked to Smacks yesterday, briefly, about his experience talking a gun out of a man's hands. He didn't want to tell me much last night, and I didn't blame him. He says we'll talk next weekend when he's here. I called Le Victoir tonight to say that I'd gotten my mother's email about Tom and Sara. Smacks picked up. He was distracted. I suddenly realized that I'd called for selfish reasons. I wanted details, I wanted reassurance, I wanted sudden functionality of my family. I hated myself so much right then. Smacks said he was about to call Tom. I asked him to pass on the message that I'm thinking about him. I got the hell off the phone before I broke into tears of self-loathing.