An Open Letter To My Brother Behind Bars

You’d think it’d be easy to write a letter about you, after all I have been writing you letters since I was 12. I feel as if a part of me has to thank you in turn for my creative writing skills, my proper etiquette, and being one of the first girls in 6th grade to already know how to write and properly address a letter.

But that’s the only good thing that’s come from your poor choices.

I remember when my dad died, right before you went to jail for the first time, and you swore I’d never have to worry about anything because you would take that roll, you’d play the lead. You’d make sure no boys ever hurt me, you’d walk me down the isle.. to a boy of your approval of course.

Those were just some of the many promises you managed to break..

You see the drugs they got the best of you, as they did my dad, and later on in my life lots of people I cared for.. And I tried so hard to be understanding.

I tried to understand why my big brother no longer wanted me in his room, why he no longer wanted to go for long walks, why he’d disappear on the one day he was suppose to be thankful for his family to go do the unimaginable and steal from us. I tried to understand at such a young age why such a boy with a big appetite became a man who couldn’t eat because he was constantly sick.. Dope sick. I tried to understand, I really did.

Then I tried to understand why you disappeared for long stretches of time, why I had to write my brother on holidays while other kids just had there’s there.

Why you broke every promise you’ve ever made to me, why you stole from our family, why you stopped picking me up for our annual block parties, why my aunt lost her job because of you, why you’d promise every single time..

That things would be different.

But they weren’t, the only thing that was different was the change in time, in appearance, in length of whatever sentence the state gave you that time.

I tried to believe you..

I wanted nothing more than to believe that this time would be different, that I’d get my big brother back.

“You have a call from an inmate at a state correctional facility…”

“To accept this charge press 1"

And I did, I always accepted whatever charge it costed to hear your broken promises time after time again, $15 for a 5 minute phone call, I even got a job in Highschool so I could support my 26 year old brother and put money on his books so he had commissary.

You called again yesterday..

And I accepted it once again, I accepted the call, I allowed myself to hear what again will probably only be a broken promise. I listened to you tell me that you were going to change how you’d come home in February but there was just “one little problem.”

You need a place to stay. Everyone’s given up on you, except me. But I won’t try and grow up any faster to get an apartment for you to have a home plan, I refuse to do so.

I won’t wait around any longer for empty promises, all of those things you swore you’d do I can’t wait for you to do anymore; because I’ll be waiting forever.

My senior year starts in just a few short weeks, my 18th birthday will shortly follow. The birthday you will miss, but you’ve missed every one since 12, so I won’t be disappointed.

Maybe you’ll make it home on time for other mile stones, and if you do maybe you’ll stay out of jail long enough to watch me accomplish them.

But I won’t wait up for you anymore

I hope you make prom this year, so you can see me in my beautiful dress, I hope you make my graduation so you can see me accomplish what most of our family could not. I would like all of these things, but you should know now that I know better now than to count on them.

With much love,

The little sister who was suppose to be your number 1.