Why I Cry

If I talk out loud, I'll probably choke up and cry, so instead I'll write.

I wouldn't have cried earlier today, but my brother finally cracked. It's the first time that has happened since we were little kids.

Our parents were extremely stoic when we were growing up. Tears were a sign of weakness.

Even when my dad punched me in his rare fits of rage, no teardrops would spill over to leave telltale tracks sparkling down my cheeks, to give way to terror and hurt.

Life has taught me to cry. Cry at the pain caused by sorrow and loss. Cry in empathy when I know the people I love are hurting. Cry at Man's inhumanity to each other and at his/her cruelty to animals and the world around us. To cry in the face of death.

I take care of the people I love, it's just what I do, what I've always done. Not in the nurturing Earth Mother way, but as the protector, the champion, sometimes through sheer strength of will,  and of course, with the money I've earned from working since I was fifteen. I've been doing it as long as I can remember.

It is very hard for me not to want to rush to my family's or friend's aid, and my heart breaks when I can't fix their problems. I try hard to accept that which I cannot change nor repair.

Today I had a phone conversation with my brother.

Here is my brother John's story...

[a short history]
A little over a year ago, they had to walk away from their home in Florida. John had been working for his son-in-law at a Title and Loan company near Tampa. With the collapse of the economy, the company floundered and work was cut back, as well as salaries. John's included.

Cathy was working in Clearwater, but then she got sick and ended up in the hospital. When she was feeling better, she worked when she was able.

They were offered an opportunity to open a new Rehab/Detox Center in Nashville. They agreed they both hated Florida and jumped at a new beginning. They spent most of their savings and moved to Tennessee, but now they could only afford to rent. John had told me several months back that with a foreclosure on their record, some places won't even rent to them. Fortunately, they did find a cheap place to live and keep their pets.
In Nashville, Cathy's 99 year old mom (who had been living with them for almost 18 years) finally went into a nursing home nearby.

[from the phone call]

Early last month, Cathy, had to go back into the hospital. I didn't know that until today. They do not have medical insurance and I'm pretty sure their doctor bills are astronomical. Despite the setbacks, they are generally happy people, poor but proud.

Then two weeks ago, their tiny home was broken into. The robbers had to have been idiots, because they smashed through a window in the backyard, even though the back door was not locked. John and Cathy's two dogs must have caused a ruckus, but Eli is 10 years old and Millie, 13, plus a cat, Sammy, 9. are not spring chickens anymore. Too old to put up a strong fight against young thugs.

Eli and Millie have been best friends for 10 years, ever since Eli was rescued off a country road during a rainstorm near Topeka as a 6 week old puppy. Millie is a Golden Retriever (the dumb blonde) and Eli is a Belgian Malinois (the genius goofball).

Needless to say, the burglars terrorized the dogs by throwing all kinds of stuff from around the house at them to keep them at bay. A lot of personal items were broken, but they only stole John and Cathy's laptops (their livelihood) and a large monitor.

Because John and Cathy both have to use a computer to do their jobs (basically self-employed), they had to use part of their rent money to buy another computer. They don’t have renter's insurance.

John said that after the burglary, it seemed like Eli's spirit was broken. Maybe because the old boy hadn't been able to protect the house which had always been his job. John and Cathy were just glad neither dog was killed.

Then last night, a mistake was made and tragedy struck.

John got home from work late. Cathy was in bed, because she wasn't feeling well, and because she is partially deaf, didn't hear any of what was to follow.

John took both dogs out front to stretch their legs (not on leashes, because he says it was late and there weren't any cars out). He usually stands out there with them and smokes a cigarette, but last night he stepped inside for just a second to turn on the new laptop in order to finish some paperwork.

He had no sooner begun the boot-up when he heard Eli's agonized screams. Rushing back out the front door, no car in sight, he saw Eli lying in the middle of the street. Millie stood on the sidewalk waiting for Eli to get back up. John rushed to Eli's side as did two neighbors. He said Eli looked pretty messed up, obviously he had been hit by a car, but he was alive. Eli stopped screaming as soon as he saw his daddy. His trusting eyes knowing that Daddy would make everything better.

One of the neighbors rushed back home and returned with a large board so they could lift Eli into the back of John's truck. John said his mind had stopped functioning at that point and he was thankful the neighbors were there. One of them rode in the back of John's truck with Eli, while John followed the other neighbor's car to the emergency animal hospital.

They rushed Eli in and while my brother stood beside his beloved dog, tears flowing unabashedly, he was handed the written estimate. In order for the veterinarians to take measures to keep Eli alive, it would cost over $1000.00. It might as well have been a million dollars. My brother had $108.00 in his pocket and $50.00 in the bank, the sum total of his liquid assests. He gave it all to the vet, but instead of saving Eli, he had to choose to put him to sleep. He gave Eli a final hug goodbye, then stood outside while the deed was done. He left the vet hospital still owing another $100.00.

My brother has never had human children of his own, Eli and Millie are his children.

My brother's pain and anger came to a head, when he asked me if I could send any pictures I might have of Eli, because all his pictures were taken when the laptops were stolen. That's when he broke down completely.

On the phone, through his tears, he asked me if I thought that he or Cathy had brought this bad Karma down on themselves.

I know that all they have ever tried to do is help other people. They are genuinely good people.

So, I told him that I believe that evil walks among us and at times raises its ugly head against good people. Maybe to make us give up and turn away from our goodness, but we must hold steadfast. Till my dying breath, I will believe that good can prevail.

I told him to remember that they had saved a sad and frightened little puppy from certain death ten years ago and given him a wonderful life, a life of love. Don't lose sight of all those good years, little brother and then I promised I would send him every picture I had ever taken of Eli, Millie, Mozart (their old cat, now deceased), their Topeka home and of course, the ones I have of the both of them through the years.


I told him that my house is big, that if their world gets to be too harsh, my door will always be open.

I told him I love him and Cathy.

Ah, that I could open Time in a Bottle.
Proferred to my brother and his wife,
please imbibe,
to dull grief's pain, linger only memories, treasured,
and softly abide.

Now you know why I cry.