Tony

The fact that I couldn't find one good picture of my brother Tony is telling. He is in the front with other family all around.

I haven't continued with my Fable because if I were to go in chronological order Tony would be next.

And this one is tricky....

Let me explain.

I was an only child for six years. I was a daddy's girl and loved it.

My mother didn't work outside of the home (most moms in the '60's did not). I pretty much had her undivided attention.

Then came Tony. Mom and Dad tried for several years to have him, he was planned.

Tony was one miserable baby. And I mean miserable.

He cried all the time. Nonstop.

When he was strong enough to get on his hands and knees he would rock back and forth banging his head on the side of the crib. While crying, of course.

They had no clue what to do with him.

Tony was later diagnosed as "hyperactive" and given large amounts of Ritalin. This caused all kinds of other problems.

He had a lazy eye that required him to wear an eyepatch for several years to strengthen the weak one. He had many other health problems as well but this is a family friendly blog so I won't go into detail.

Growing up, I pretty much just tolerated him. He would go through my things and steal from me. By the time I was in High School I had to sleep with my wallet.

When Tony was in High School, (right before Dad's death), he was in a terrible motorcycle accident. He had a compound fracture of the femur that required surgery and a long recovery.

My parent's idiot doctor overmedicated him. By the way, this is the same doctor that would later kill our father. But I digress.

By the time Tony received the settlement money from the driver of the car that caused the accident, he was addicted to the painkillers.

When the doctor cut him off cold turkey, he graduated to cocaine.

By 1987 when Dad died, he was quite the addict. This only became worse.

Mother fell into a severe depression following Dad's death. (Thanks doctor for handling that poorly as well). Maybe she could have helped him if she wasn't in a haze, who knows.

By the early '90's he had been in and out of rehab a few times.

He was clean, then he wasn't. Sober, then he wasn't.

Eventually, after terrorizing his younger siblings and repeatedly ripping off the family, he was on the streets.

A homeless drug addict.

Over the years we would hear from him, how he had found Jesus. How he had his life together.

And then, he would be back on drugs. Some random hospital would call Mother saying he was being treated for some illness or injury.

He spent several years in jail following a burglary conviction.

Dad's dying broke her heart. Tony's addiction broke it again.

One day she received a phone call from a hospital in Georgia. It seems Tony had been "riding the rails" and when caught, he fell off of the train and it severed his foot. That's right, severed his foot. He was fitted with an artificial foot and went into a rehab facility where he learned to use his new prosthetic, found a wife, found Jesus (again) and was clean and sober.

It didn't last. As years passed he would drop in unexpectedly looking for a place to stay or money. Or both.

Following Mother's death in June, my sister Angie set out to find him. While he hadn't inherited anything, we felt he had a right to know.

She couldn't find him. Later we found out why.

He had been found unconscious on the street of Florida and later died.

In February.

Since he didn't have any identification, the police had to run his fingerprints to find his NOK. They finally found her when the prints matched from his prison time.

I hope that you are finally at peace Tony.

Thank God Mother never knew you died in February.