Too Much to Handle

It was the first time I had ever seen my dad cry. The sound of his cries drew me into the living room, upon where I saw my mom crying too. Because of my innocence, tears began to fall from my baby blue eyes. Held in my mother’s arms, all I could ask myself was, “What is happening?”
I was in the fourth grade and loving life. My mom was my best friend, I was still Daddy’s little girl, and I had the two best big brothers in the whole entire world. Looking out for me, my brother Ryan always wanted what was best for me. Although he was my brother, he was also my best friend. Then there was Tommy, my half brother. Because he was fifteen years older than me, I wasn’t as close with him, but I looked at him like a superhero. I only saw him on weekends, but I loved every second of it. Sadly, I was too young to realize the illness he was facing.
My mom asked me, “Do you know what drugs are?” Gently she wiped the tears off of her face with a soft pink Kleenex.
“Yes mama,” I said innocently. “We learned about them in school.”
“Well what did you learn about them?”
“I learned that they are bad and something I should never try.”
In a frustrated yet curious tone, I asked, “What’s going on and why isn’t anybody telling me anything?” There was instant silence.
My mom began to continue on and tried explaining to me the harms of drugs and what happens to people who are involved with them. However, I was not listening. Staring at my dad, I could not concentrate on my mom over his sobs. All of the sudden, I heard her say the word Tommy and Heroine; caught off guard, I began to listen. Tears were pouring down my face before I knew it. How could my big brother be doing something so stupid? I ran out of the room in anger and disbelief.
Following me was my dad. I felt like a little girl lost in a big world. Security is what my father gave me when he picked me up. Suddenly, I realized I wasn’t going to have to go through this alone.
“We’re all in this together,” he reassured me. “We’ll get through this like a family.” After my father’s words of wisdom, Ryan came upstairs. Knowing he would be honest with me, I told my brother to elaborate on the situation. He summed it up by telling me Tommy stole our mom’s jewelry and turned into a pawnshop for drug money.
We were in the brightest room in our house when Ryan told me this; we were in my bright sky blue bedroom. Despite the bright colors, right at that moment everything seemed so dark. I stared out the window and I swear the bright blue sky turned instantly to gray. Taking it all in, I told my brother to leave and I began wondering how I didn’t know this was happening. How could I be so naive? How could he do this to me?
Three days had passed, and I had not seen or spoken to Tommy, nor had I talked much about the situation with my family. Despite my young age, I knew I needed to talk to someone. Nervously, I decided to ask my mom if I could see the school’s social worker. With her gentle and loving nature, she told me it was a great idea and she would call the social worker.
I talked to the social worker at least once a week for my fourth and almost entire fifth grade year. However, halfway through my fifth grade year, she transferred to a different school. Heartbroken and disappointed, I said a sad goodbye to my social worker. On the other hand, she left me with great tips and techniques of expressing my sad and angry feelings towards Tommy. It was then that I put a wall up about the situation. I heard less and less about Tommy, and it was as though I avoided the topic.
Six years had passed. Nana, my dad’s mother, had sadly passed from the heartbreaking Alzheimer’s disease. My dad informed me about an hour before the funeral that Tommy may be coming. Shocked, I said okay with a smile and ran up to my bedroom and cried. A million and one things were running through my head. Was I ready for this?
Walking into the second day of the viewing was Ryan and me; there he was. He was unbelievably skinny and about my height. It was the first time I had seen my brother in seven years; imagine that. Trying to hold in my tears, I ran outside. Following me was Ryan, and just after him came my mom. Ryan and I held each other crying. Suddenly, we saw Tommy walk outside. Although it looked quite obvious, I tried to walk away discretely. I stood outside from a distance watching as Ryan and Tommy talked. Due to my curiosity, I stared at them for about twenty minutes wondering how Ryan was having a conversation with Tommy after not seeing him for seven years.
He was walking towards me. My heart began to beat faster and faster. Wanting to escape, I knew I was going to need to talk to him eventually. During the tense moments he was walking towards me, I thought about the anger I had inside of me. I thought about the countless nights I cried myself to sleep wondering if he still even remembered me. He tapped me on the shoulder. Despite the previous feelings I was having, I turned around face to face with him while tears were running down my rosy cheeks. Not a second went by when he held me in his skinny arms and all I could hear were his heartbreaking cries continuously saying, “I’m sorry.”