sorry charlie
August 06, 2004 � 8:37 p.m.

First Entry Today

Today�s Weather: Lemon drop breezes with cotton candy skies

My youngest brother�s father died.

He�s really my cousin, but because his parents were drug addicts and fuck ups, my mom took him and my other cousin Edward in and they have been my brothers since.

So�his dad died�and he never did mend the broken fences within their relationship before he died. Uncle Howie tried to reach out to Charlie, but I guess he figured it was just like all the other times he would �get clean� and try to pull his life together. Now he�s gone, and Charlie will never have that chance to fix things back�and I can tell he�s hurting because of it.

He came over this morning and I was so thrilled to see him I must have hugged him for 10 minutes. I never get to see him anymore because I work so much, so I crushed him to me and cried. He was so frail in my arms�a little slip of a thing with this huge hair bear afro that seemed to take up all the space in the room. He hugged me back just as hard, but finally pulled away while begging me to calm down. He lit a ciggy and looked down on me as I slid to the floor to finish looking for the title of my car (which I can�t fucking find so I have to go to the DMV and get another on Monday, damn it!) and I smiled up at him and asked him how he had been.

As he talked, I noticed that his hands still shook slightly�a side effect of being born addicted to whatever drug his mother had been consuming during pregnancy. He still had the lost and woebegone look about him�tall, slim, slightly ruffled, and smelling of Hennessey. At 11 in the morning my little brother stood in front of me smelling of liquor. His life struck me as tragic then. His father gone for good now, his brothers locked up or avoiding him, his intelligence wasted on working in a warehouse instead of the job he deserves if he would have went to college�hell�if he would have finished high school, even. I looked at him, and my heart broke, and I couldn�t speak or look at him too long or he would know what I was thinking.

My Charlie�poor broken and lost Charlie�irrevocably damaged by the world and by my mother most of all�every time I touch you I feel like I�ve betrayed you because I wasn�t strong enough to save you from her�because I wasn�t strong enough to save myself. Will you always be lost in the shadows? Will you always be searching and wanting? Will you never fulfill your potential? Must you always, always be left behind?

He looked so small and afraid and alone as he asked me if I was coming to the funeral. When I said no, I saw the disappointment in his eyes before he reminded me that it was his first funeral. He couldn�t look at me as he said it�his eyes jumped around the room scanning�.searching�his hands twitching and his hair shaking�.and he seemed a lot like Trixie then�a frightened, chastised kitty thrown out into the world�and I reached over and touched his leg to reassure him. He stared in my direction blankly, and I told him I was sorry that I had forgotten�that I would be there for him. He told me I didn�t have to come, but I could hear the relief in his voice when I insisted on coming.

He hugged me goodbye, this time he crushed me to him�and I watched my beloved broken boy shuffle out of my room and down the stairs, my soul shattering when he called out he loved me and goodbye before shutting the door.

Always goodbye�always, always goodbye�

Why is it I hear that word more than any other in my life?