Teen suicide sucks. I found out, first-hand, in 1971. My brother with that beautiful nervous smile of his, left us. It happened late at night. I was age 16 and asleep. Joe would have been 19 in one more week. I hope he stopped by my room and said goodbye. I'll never know. I have memories of him, very good ones. I discarded the negative, as best I can. The blog has helped me do this. If I could change things I would. He was so smart. So quiet. Call me Mr Opposite. We fought and loved each-other. He was my big brother. He wrote this funny poem and I never forgot it. I don't know if my sisters know it, but I know it. word.for.word.
WHEN I GET OLDER
When I get older, I know what I'll be.
A wino's life, is the life for me.
Vin Ros'e and Muscatel,
A life like that would sure be swell!
I'd live down by the railroad tracks,
And keep my wine in paper sacks.
When I'm older and I die,
You'll know it's cause my bottle's dry!
*my Blog Mother "Erica" is writing poetry. Thanks Erica, for helping me to share my brother Joe. If someone talks about death, stop, think, and listen. My parents didn't. It was different then. JG