18 years in

 The years keep accumulating. Every so often I run into this blog spot and get caught up on this paltry excuse for a running memoir that I started years ago. I read all my past entries (all five of them), and was shocked to see that the first two were written while Brian was still alive. I'm glad I made those entries because they provided me with a few more precious details about his visit here back in February of 2010. He was so appreciative and happy to be invited here, and I felt privileged that we were able to host him. 

Looking back from this vantage, I have no doubt that he had a drug problem then, and that it was beating him pretty badly.  I doubt that he used anything while he was here but there is no way to know. He may have brought some pills with him and taken them at strategic times. Or maybe he was trying to kick the habit and succeeded at getting clean for periods of time (especially when removed from his home environment), only to spiral back later. Perhaps it was years of that cycle repeating itself. Or perhaps he kept it going in a careful, minimal way in order to remain functional while indulging in his habit. 

Maybe he never thought it would get so bad that one night the perfect storm would finally roll in and find him alone on a Friday night in an inadvertent overdose situation - his usual pills taken after a few forgotten drinks were consumed earlier that evening. Happy hour with colleagues or maybe a date with someone online. A tactical error that even someone as clever as Brian could make.  Any of us could make. There are some rules that just cannot be broken, doesn't matter who you are. And then Brian found himself on a sinking ship too far from shore to swim in solo. And he drowned and died right there on his living room couch with nobody for company. Alone in his addiction, which long ago had ruined any chances he had of having a companion there with him in that moment, his time of greatest need. Someone to call 911 to show up with narcan, transport him, resuscitate him if necessary.

It's possible that had I not left for Europe, Brian might still be alive today. I always suspected that something was up with him, though never this and never this bad. But as the years pressed on I may have put it together. I was slightly disturbed in 2013 when I had to pick Brian up from the hospital after his leg surgery (what about his own friends? No girlfriend?). His apartment was sparse to say the least. Very plain furniture and virtually no personal effects, no clutter. He didn't need a girlfriend, his love came in pill form and he gave that his all. No need for building a life, memories, interests. Empty drawers, no decor, everything hollow and blank. 

I should have said something. I should have done something. I should have confronted Brian and interrogated him and gotten the same "fuck you" I got from him all those years ago when mom asked me to talk to him about his attitude. Or the same "fuck you" he implied to me when I complained to him about not making the car payments to me that he promised to. I was mad when I heard those words, but I should have looked past that to understand what they really meant - maybe "I'm in trouble." Brian was in trouble, that's for sure.

Thirteen Years In

Friday 11 January 2019

Will I ever learn to keep up this journal for a whole year?  And beyond, presumably? I imagine if I did I could get something done. The people who put in the work every day generally do, even if it's gibberish most of the time.

I enjoy starting fresh, so that's what I will do here rather than try to link this to anything in the past.

My last post on this was 8 years ago, when my brother Brian was still alive and visiting us here in Geneva. I did not know at the time that the next time I would be writing here he would be dead for 3 years.

What has transpired since then, relative to all this?

My biggest shift (and by biggest I don't necessarily mean very big) to date has been my decision to take up the guitar. I am in my seventh month of playing, and I plan to continue to learn and master the instrument.  I have several practical (and impractical) reasons for doing this, a few of which are private (not to be shared even in a private journal). However, as for decisions of why to start playing, it recently occurred to me that I am doing this for my brother Brian (and of course for myself), because he was robbed of his opportunity to live a full life. And so I have decided to live part of the rest of my life for him, by doing something that I have always wanted to do and yet would probably never get around to doing.

Taking on the guitar has not really solved some of my other problems, though it does serve as a welcome distraction at times. In a way, it scratches an itch, and I am keen to continue this effort to see what else it does for me. I believe it can be done, and it has helped my disposition in many ways as well as my self-esteem. It will continue.

I will hereby give up on the notion that I will soon begin a work of fiction, Rather, I take great satisfaction at merely putting pen to paper, and filling up a page with words expressed by me and written for an imagined reader - perhaps merely another version of myself, one who approves and appreciates what I have to say and has complete faith in my thinking process and ability to express myself.

The edict from on high is to write every day and do not interfere with content.

This is what I am missing here in Switzerland, among other things.

Tonight is Brian's last night with us here in Geneva. We had lunch at Chez Ma (Provencal rotisserie chicken) and dinner at Le Lacustre (a glorified Molino), which were both excellent. But what I really want is a...

Four Years In

Keira is watching a song about shapes on cbeebies. Brian is in the shower. Lisa is at work. She has a lot of meetings this week. She is getting big. It's less than a month until the baby is due. She will probably have a c-section again. I feel badly that she has to go through surgery and recovery once more, but the alternative is too nerve-wracking. I spend much of my day cleaning the house and doing the dishes. I cook a lot as well. Last night we had fondue, though I did my best to give it a healthy spin by providing steamed potatoes and broccoli to dip into the cheese.

In later posts I will ruminate on my life as a house dad. I don't really feel like doing "real work" anymore these days. I am plenty busy, and the idea of tedious work with deadlines and office stress really does not appeal to me. This is a very complex issue. I will not try to encompass it all in one entry. Also, I have a lot to say about our life in Switzerland. I will get to this a little at a time, and hopefully it will build momentum. This is just the very beginning. So bear with me, whoever you are.