That night was strange.
Everything was wrong.
The four of us sat at the table, quiet, for once.
My father wasn’t yelling at me or my brother or my mother.
My mother wasn’t trying to make me eat a lot of vegetables.
I really hated salad back then.

My brother’s face looked like a stone wall
But I knew it was only because he wouldn’t cry in front of my father.
There was silence, but there was so much going on.
My father loves to talk to Jesus before we eat
Mostly because my mother is Jewish.
Usually it’s loud
And long
But that night his voice was barely above a whisper
And all he said was
Please bring the boys home safe.
Please.

My brother was trying so hard not to cry
I grabbed his fingers under the table so he would know I will never leave him alone.
Ever.

Some band said something about
Having wood and nails
And turning hate out of a factory
I didn’t hate anyone that day
My insides were squeezing each other trying to hold on
Trying not to die.

I had to be strong for my brother
Because he’ll never cry in front of my father.
For four days
All my father said as we sat around our table was
Please bring the boys home safe.
Please.

Those four days
Were empty.
I felt like a glass
That would never again be full
My brother
Stood next to me
Sat with me
We watched television together
But he wasn’t there
He was searching for Mike
He just wanted to find Mike
Because Mike helped him find David.
Himself.

I watched my brother
Fall.
Where was his girlfriend?
Being a whore.
Never have I wanted to hold his hand so much.
My brother was weak
I gave him all my strength
He needed me
And I will always be his home
Home is blood and blood is home
I will always be there.

-LBR