Casey

At the very beginning of Summer I got a text late one night from Bethany. Casey had been arrested for this 3rd DUI and it was not looking good. He had damaged property. Ran from the cops. Refused a breathalyzer. And had an existing warrant for a past offense. He wasn't allowed out on bail until court addressed that warrant so he spent 12 days in jail.

** Backstory:
I don't know if Casey would agree or even feel this way, but I have always felt a special bond with him. I feel like we are cut from the same cloth in lots of ways and I remember at a very young age being the only one that could get Casey to do anything. My mom would beg him to unload the dishwasher - he never would. Until I got up and made it a game. I'd throw him the cups, plates, bowls and he'd put them away. I felt like I spoke his language and I really plain and simply liked him as a person and not just loved him cause he was my brother. Fast forward to when my parents got a divorce. The pain of living in a dysfunctional home seemed small in comparison to that home splitting at the seams. It was like the gravity was taken out from under us all and we all just floated away. It wasn't intentional, it wasn't what I wanted, but it happened. It was too painful to try and stick around to sweep up the shrapnel so I, and I think most of my siblings too, turned away and focused on our own lives. Bethany and Casey were 12 and 15. I think I have blocked out a lot of that time, but my perception now is that I deserted them. I know its probably not 100% true, I know I spent time with them, hung out with them, and checked up on them. But, being a mother now, I didn't do what I know to do now. Scoop them up and shelter them from the fall-out. I carry a lot of guilt for that time. Bethany and I stayed close but Casey drifted away from me. He found friends that took the place of family or siblings. He found drugs, drinking, and a new a life. Whatever he needed to do to make himself feel okay. I knew he had gotten in trouble with the law but my dad took care of it and I had very little involvement. It was like it didn't happen almost. It wasn't spoken of and the details were never disclosed to me. I check up on him often, I ached to be a factor in his life. But I wasn't. I watched from the sidelines. **

Back to that night: When I got that text about his arrest it was like a coach was calling me into the game after sitting on the bench. To suit up and do what I had been praying for for all these years. To be there in anyway I could. I spoke to him on the phone while he was in jail. I cried and cried. He was quiet. He sent me on errands, asked for my help with his apartment and belongings. Finding his phone, what happened to his car. All tasks I could complete to show him (and myself) I could show up for him. With my dad living a world away in New Zealand and my mom's relationship with him strained and non-existent, and my siblings scattered around, in a logistical way I was the best option. I had an empty basement, a flexible Summer schedule, and still unsuccessful at getting pregnant I was also parenting two pretty self sufficient boys. I had absolutely no idea what being Casey's "person" would entail, but I was in a pretty optimal position to take that on. All I wanted was a chance to show him I could be the sister he deserved when he was 12, 13, 14, 15 and on. And now.



My mom had offered him to come live with her after the bail hearing but instinctively I knew. After basically telling Russ we had to do it, but of course he was supportive, I offered my basement to Casey. I think he was relieved to have an option, but his walls were up high and it was hard to tell if what I said or did on his behalf was appreciated or not. We started by collecting his things from his apartment. Russ went and was surprised to see everything dumped on the porch. He wasn't allowed inside, the landlord was harsh and unfriendly. He brought Casey's things back in bags and I spent the next couple days sorting his stuff looking for things he needed like his social security card. We had all his clothes washed and I couldn't help but sob as I saw evidences of the state of things. A kid forced to be a man before he knew how or was even ready. His baby blanket tucked among his laundry. A tiny sewing kit put me over the edge. Picturing him sewing on a button broke my heart. I can't put it into words but I felt so ashamed of myself. His mattress was stained and smelled like liquor. It was all so grim.

He showed me this in regards to his depression and drinking.

The court date arrived and my first encounter with anything of the sort. Seeing Casey in a jail jumpsuit and chains around his waist, feet and wrists almost broke me. How did my little baby brother end up here? I was ready to rescue him. We made a plan with his lawyer. He would live with us, go to work with Russ everyday and outpatient rehab or AA meetings each night. The judge who is known for being a DUI nazi was angry just reading his wrap sheet. Why would I let you out to hurt yourself and others? Then his lawyer shared our family's plan with the judge. By some miracle she let Casey out on his own recognizance. Meaning no one would be following up, nothing was court ordered, what he did from that point until sentencing was entirely up to him. And me. And I was ready to micro manage him into freedom. He would be released later that day and my family all cried, so relieved he wouldn't have to stay in prison. Grateful that he could be out, that we could all support him in his recovery.

Russ and the boys and I drove to the county jail 30 minutes away to discover he had already been signed out. I was so disappointed. I felt like I was being duped. One of the first evidences that he had created his own family, and also that he was still a reckless kid that loved to push the boundaries. He finally got to our house late that night and told me he had gone to a bar but didn't drink. Oh gosh, I thought. He's not taking this seriously at all. My dad gave him a pep talk or lecture or something, that sort of helped. But he wanted to go back out that night (it was like 11pm at that point) it was almost laughable.

That Summer was a huge tug of war between me not wanting to babysit him. Wanting to maintain his agency. Wanting him to choose. And then wanting to protect him, wanting him to get better, wanting him to live up to his potential, to find happiness and wholeness. To be responsible, organized, accountable, and a hardworking adult. I enabled him at every turn, I saw later.

We drove him to a daily AA meeting, outpatient. To volunteer hours, to friends houses, to get coffee. Encouraged him, loved him, gave him space, forced him to come along. I saw high highs, the happy Casey I knew, and I saw low lows. The kind who didn't get out of bed, who didn't want to try.
Sobriety chips were collected, but real life daunted him and I could tell. He wasn't taking advantage of his one on one therapy and he got tired of the group efforts and hearing every one else's stories.
At 100 days of sobriety I woke up at 6 am to a flood of texts and missed calls. Pleading me to go check on Casey. I went downstairs to see him laying in his bed a friend sitting next to him. But a knife in his hand. It ended up being the best thing that could've happened.

His instability lead us to the ER, which checked him into the behavioral unit of the hospital. Which lead him to a couple days stay, which lead to insurance covering him to go to Inpatient rehab (what I wanted and fought for him but he had yet to come to that conclusion.) Finally seeing the state of things he was ready to go to inpatient rehab. He was nervous but seemingly excited.

Saying goodbye at rehab check in

Visiting hours

He looked so good. Was happy.

Our siblings really rallied together for him. 

It was a Summer I'll never forget, seeing the atonement work in someone's life who didn't see or believe it to be true. All I know is Casey is so loved, by God, by Jesus Christ, by his family. I remember sitting at church with him one of the few (only?) times he came while he lived with us. Sitting next to him and praying so hard that he'd feel something. That he'd feel the love of his Savior, the angels working to help him from behind the scenes. The people who love him. Begging God to help him feel something.

He later told me he was also praying at that same meeting. That if it was true, 1 person would need to come find him and tell him. No one did. Its one of the great shames of my life. Staying quiet trying not to be in his face about it, nagging or whatever. I just needed to open my mouth.