Happy Birthday Joey: R.I.P

Today my little brother Joey would have been 40. Too bad, he decided the world was not worth it when I was incarcerated. We were about as close as brothers could be. Whenever my ex threw me out (drugs, mostly) he was who gave me shelter. June 22nd, 1969 was when the wild man joined the human race. A deep and wild little kid, he could always make me laugh.

He joined the Army as a medic, went to jump school, and was sent to Korea for the Olympics. Like me, he was a little too fond of a buzz and a little too unhappy with himself. Unlike me, he never had any children. That is too bad. He was a wonderful uncle and maybe kids would have made life worth hanging on to. As it were, he did not and it was not.

Our dad also decided he did not want to deal with life any longer 24 some years ago. THAT still seems like yesterday. In what seems to be a heart-breaking tradition, Joey also felt life just was not worth it anymore. I try to understand where he was coming from, but I just cannot. Sometimes I do dwell on what his last moments were like. Remorse, overwhelming anger, sadness, careless, even joyful? I suppose I will not know until I cross over, hopefully as an old man. The last time I ever spoke to him was a collect call from jail. "I love you and miss you" were the last words I ever said to him. His to me? "I love you and miss you, too brother." Ironically, he was at Ray's house, the kind, and gentle friend who found his body.

While behind bars, I read a lot of bible study books that the chaplain's would lend me. Although I am a practicing Catholic, it was not unusual for the protestant chaplain to lend me books and come talk to me. That is why I thought nothing of it when Chaplain Dallas came up to see me. When he said we needed to talk alone, I panicked. The only time guilt would overwhelm me was whenever I thought of my children. 'Oh Lord, please not my babies!' was what I was thinking when I went to the lawyer room. 'Thom, do you have a brother named Joe?' rev Dallas asked. As much as it hurts ills and me me with guilt to say this, relief washed over me that the kids were all right. Then guilt and sadness almost doubled me over.

Dallas had spoke to the ex I guess because he said, "Your friend Ray was who found him." We chatted a little. It was jail policy that when you lose an immediate family member you go to the mental health unit (MHU). I was comfortable were I was at and liked the guys I was with, mostly. CO Gordon M. stepped up to the plate for me. He took responsibility for me and I got to stay on my pod. I have always been grateful for that.

It is fitting that Ray found him. He was as much Joe's brother as I was. He is also the mentally healthiest person I can think of. Of all his and my friends, Ray could handle it. My life has pretty much been no picnic since getting out. Temporary work is the best I can land and homelessness has popped up a couple times. The closing statements may read a little cheesy but they are still true. I do my best to stay clean for him. My children are a huge part of me sticking it out in a world that does not need me. Joey's memory is the other part. I never had a chance to say goodbye but our last words to each other are as true now as the day we said them.