What’s the most heartbreaking phone call you’ve ever gotten?
The Crash and the Cost of Enablement
My Golden Child brother stole my 1970 Chevy Impala and crashed it, landing himself in the hospital. My parents are telling me to forget the car and focus on his recovery.
I was spending the night at my best friend’s house when I got a call from my parents telling me my younger brother, Jake, was in the hospital with life-threatening injuries. After some back and forth, I realized he was in the hospital because he stole my restored 1970 Chevy Impala while drunk and crashed it.
I was extremely mad, both at my brother Jake for doing something so stupid and at my parents for never putting boundaries on him. After the call, I hung up, told my best friend what happened, and took off. Upon arrival at the hospital, I saw a sight more grim than I could have imagined.
When I got to the hospital, I hurried to the desk and asked where Jake was. The nurse directed me to the waiting room where I found all of our family. I ran to my mom and hugged her.
I asked my parents if they knew specifically what happened.
She said
that he was speeding and hit a tree.
I asked how he was doing, and she took a deep breath and covered her mouth. It looked like she was crying before I arrived.
She said
that he had spinal injuries and that if he made it out of the emergency surgery alive they were not sure if he’d be able to walk or move anything below his shoulders. He would legit be paralyzed.
I sat there with the news she told me. I couldn’t even wrap my head around what I had just heard. I was trying to balance my anger, frustration, sadness, despair, and heartbreak, but very successfully.
If only he listened to me,
I said to myself.
And I spent thousands upon thousands of dollars on that car just for it to be flushed down the drain. No, I can’t think like that, he’s my brother. The car means nothing against his life.
My mom heard the part about the car and nothing else.
She told me
that that car didn’t matter and that I should be praying that my brother made it out of surgery alive and well.
I understood that and wished the best for him. But on the other hand, I put all of my savings into that car, and we would have both the car and my brother if he weren’t so irresponsible.
My parents had a way of focusing on my brother instead of how things affected me. When I was seven, I had a favorite teddy bear that I would sleep with every night. His name was Bear Bear.
I loved him and played with him all the time. He was one of the only gifts I got as a kid. One day, the dog my little brother begged for, Coco, wanted to play with Bear Bear like I did.
When I came home from school one day, Bear’s stuffing was strolled all throughout the house, in the living room, in our bedrooms, and even the kitchen. To this day, I don’t know where some of Bear Bear’s limbs went, and my parents blamed me for keeping my bear in a place where Jake’s dog could chew on it. Then they told me that I would be responsible for cleaning up his dog’s mess.
We sat at the hospital until the sun rose and a man wearing a white coat and holding a clipboard walked into the waiting room asking to speak with our family,. My heart dropped and I prayed that Jake wasn’t dead. My mother looked nervous and we followed him to the room.
He told me that Jake was stable but would need a few more surgeries. Seeing him lifeless on the hospital bed felt surreal. The doctor said he would be there for a while and that we were free to leave.
My parents insisted they stay in the room with Jake, but I knew I couldn’t stand seeing him like this much longer. I said my goodbyes and told them to keep me updated. They agreed and I went on my way.
