I believe in hope. Hope is something that gets me through each day. I remember laying in bed one morning waking up to the sound of my father yelling. Now my father is not normally a yeller and when he does, it is a serious problem, knowing this I crept to the door and listened. I heard my dad say, “ I’m sick of this stuff. You need to get your act straight, go upstairs and change your clothes you look like a darn gangster.” being young I really did not understand what was wrong. My big brother was perfect in my eyes. I mean sometimes he would be a little grumpy and wear his clothes a little baggy, but I thought he had his act straight. I just figured my dad had woke up on the wrong side of the bed that morning.
After my brother graduated high school he still seemed like the same big brother I always knew, although now his grumpy moods were more frequent and my parents never really knew where he was. They said to me, “Cynthia, your brother is gone again. Just remember to have hope that things are going to get better.” Still not understanding what was going on, I just decided to listen to my parents.
After a year of my brother being graduated he turned into someone I didn’t even know. He acted differently then he used to, when I would ask him to come play soccer with me he would tell me he had better things to do. Or when my parents would ask him to help around the house he would throw a fit and leave. He also looked completely different, his eyes were dark and sunken in and his face looked as skinny as a pancake. Even my mothers famous macaroni wiggle couldn’t get him to the table. It was then I started to realize my brother had a drug problem. At first, I though it was just weed, but one night I would realize it was worse.
One evening my family and I were sitting down enjoying dinner, we had not seen or heard from my brother in about three weeks at this point. Halfway through dinner we heard someone at the front door, it was my brother and he needed my dad to get in the car with him. My dad being the amazing father he is gt in the car with no questions asked. In that single moment, when my dad sat in the car, he realized how much trouble my brother really was in. In the backseat of my brother’s car was a big man that was holding my brother at gun point until he got his money. My dad had to drive to the bank and get this guy his money in order to save my brother’s life. It took my parents quit some time to fill me in on what happened, but one night my mother finally told me my brother was addicted to crack cocaine.
Many occurrences like this had happened and eventually my brother got kicked out of the house. After being on his own for a while he realized he had a problem and needed professional help. My brother had become addicted to crack cocaine, heroin and was an alcoholic. My parents found him a rehab facility and he left early in January of 2008 and did not even say goodbye to his baby sister. I became very bitter towards my brother for this and just wanted to give up hope that he would get better. Why have hope for someone who is just going to leave without saying goodbye. I just kept hearing my parents voice saying, “Cynthia, have hope that things are going to get better.” That’s what I did, had hope and after eight months of being gone my brother cam back a different person. He was the perfect big brother that I used to know.
At night sometimes I think to myself what would have happened if I would have given up hope. What if I would have just thrown in the towel and given up on my brother. If I would have done that I feel I would have had a lot of resentment towards him. So even with everything he put my family through I think my brother because he taught me the most important lesson of all. Not matter what the situation is if you just have hope things will always get better.
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