The Prodigal Bro

All the while I thought I was the prodigal son. Free-spirited, a drunkard, generally indifferent with what is happening at home, does not even go home if a close relative dies, rarely sends money to parents.

But when my younger bro went home, I was dethroned. But not yet.

My bro was the epitome of a robust kid when he came home from schooling from up north. Energetic, jolly, forward-looking and can be relied upon at home.

A few years back, I never knew he had problems he was dealing alone. Even if I discovered vials of anesthetic in his room and some discarded injections. I considered that as an experimental stage he being a growing man. I had my share of that and it was worst.

When a young lady suddenly showed up a few months after my bro's arrival and carrying a package we never knew would happened, we knew right then and there he was actually escaping from responsibility. Hence, his going home. That lady became my sis-in-law. She told us she had a hard time locating our town since it was her first time to be in Bohol. Later we also knew from our inlaw that our bro was the dysfunctional type at work and could not be relied upon.

So many years after their marriage, my bro has left his reason and common sense somewhere. Every day, every month of the year for how many years, God only knows, he has not been sober. With some exceptions- only when he felt something in his insides, he would be out of sight, leaving us wondering if he was dead for good.

This situation created a family stir. My father, himself a well-known drunkard of our town, is always in conflict with my bro. Maybe he can picture himself out of my bro's daily "activities." Both father and son share almost the same features, skin tone and the alcoholism. Almost a perfect copy, in fact! Because of this, they end up always in a fight, sometimes bloody.

I always told them even a long time ago never to tolerate what my bro did. My mother, a known fatalist, would always say this was God's will. My older sis would tell us to always pray for God's intervention. I am not convinced. Until now. I believe she has been praying since and my bro keeps getting worst.

I asked the help of our municipal DSWD officer but they could not offer a solution. Being indigents, a rehad in Cebu is not an option anymore.

And so he goes on his alcoholic stupor, affecting his child, his family and our whole family as well. I bear the brunt, being the older bro, of acting as the responsible bro in the family, of which I vehemently opposed. My prodigal son role has been totally changed. My income is greatly affected because of this. My parents are not even enjoying a retirement pay from the government.

And so I complain.

Whew!