One I'd Rather Forget....

Devon

I don't have to think very hard about a memory I'd rather forget. For the last decade, I've been unsuccessful in my attempts to forget about this altogether. After my parents were imprisoned, and during my teen years, Devon relentlessly pressured me into experimenting with illegal substances. Perhaps he only wanted me to share in the fun he felt he was having, but it really was an odd situation to find myself in. I was sixteen and he was twenty-one, yet I was the one telling him how bad drugs could be. I was the one left to wait up at night because I was worried he had fallen into a ditch. I was the one left to pay the bills when he lost his job because the money in the cash register was the only thing between him and his next "fix". Even worse, the few adults that showed any interest in us and our well-being, became angry because they saw the lifestyle that he had chosen and assumed it was a group decision. It wasn't long before they had written me off as well.

Looking back over the years I am proud for making the right decisions during a time when life is just plain hard to begin with. Today, I can definitely see the difference between those of us who made an effort to keep going and those of us who gave up. But it wasn't easy. It was hard, and there were times that I almost gave in and followed in Devon's footsteps. Not because I really wanted to, but because I was tired of fighting for everything and never getting anything back in return.

One to Remember....

Devon

What can I say about Devon? I could mention that he was the family prankster, the constant comedian, the unrelenting class clown... but while all of these things would be true, it really wouldn't say anything about Devon at all. Perhaps I should explain that Devon was the third eldest child after Jack and Rachel, but the first biological child of my parents. That the three of them were only 18 months apart in age, and that four months after my mom gave birth to Devon, she discovered she was pregnant with Joyce. But what would that really tell you about Devon? Perhaps you could assume that his jocular antics really were masked attempts at being noticed. I suspect your assumption wouldn't be that far from the truth.

When we were growing up, it was Devon that would listen to any hair-brained idea that came into my head. I wanted to live in a world where anything was possible and Devon fully supported that idea. He never made me feel like I had to leave my imagination behind. Although Devon struggled with reading, he still loved a good story. He and I would imagine up the most interesting characters together. The lady sheriff from El Paso, Texas, who rid the town of outlaws, Dr. Quinn style. The band of medieval brothers, fighting for the kings honor. Hiding in caves at night, keeping a careful watch out for their nemesis who was most assuredly to strike at an unsuspecting moment. Together, we dreamed huge dreams- most which I still hold onto this very day. To be completely honest, I've never truly understood the impact his "anything is possible" attitude had on me until writing this. It saddens me to think that perhaps I've given up on him just a little too quickly... that I have neglected to cheer on his imagination. That I, over the course of time, let his determination just fade away.. I watched his candle burn dim, and shaking my head in frustration I turned my back on him and kept on walking. More on this later....

If I had to sum up my childhood with Devon, it would be in the laughter he brought into our home. It would be the fact that he was more than willing to be the butt of a joke if it meant delivering the punchline. It would be that he was there when all I needed was someone to dream with me.