Pardon me while I vent for a minute. I usually don’t like airing out family or personal problems online, but this situation is bothering me so much, I can’t help it.
My older brother, Jason, has had his share of problems in life. For a few years, my family and I had limited seating to what some could fairly call a train wreck of adult realities colliding with unchecked childhood fears and aggressions. Both he and I seemed to have a problem adjusting to the world around us as we grew older, and we both took to various vices to cope with that growing dilemma.
One thing I won’t do is pretend that he was a saint, or free from fault. Hell, for the longest time, being around him infuriated me, because he knew me so well that he could push my buttons with ease. Remembering the friendship we had as kids was painful if only because that person was still inside him, buried beneath the hard exterior shell of an angry, embittered adult who couldn’t cope.
When Jason met Stacy, he was in one of the calmer times of his life: steadily employed, somewhat happy, and getting by. My family took to her pretty quickly, mostly because she seemed to fit in so well with us. Over the years, we had come to embrace our dysfunctions as a family unit – that we would always be more like the Griswolds than the Beavers – something we accepted as long as we took it in stride and knew that, no matter the problems, we all still loved each other deeply.