MY BROTHER PASSED ON TUESDAY
How sad it is! My younger brother was a cool dude. Musically talented and a gifted runner. It’s sad because he got put in the hospital a few weeks before he passed. I went to see him with my daughter. Thankful I got to see him but hated that alcohol stole my brothers life. Looking like an old man laying there on his hospital bed.
Between the two of us we struggled with alcohol along with some of our other siblings. We came from a large family of 15; 8 boys and 7 girls. ‘Our father who is in heaven’ also battled the evil attachment and possession that alcohol takes over your mind and body. It’s no joke. It is a hindrance to existence when it TAKES you. Makes you feel like there’s no turning back and that it is a necessary part of who you are, that’s its LIE.
Embittered by its control I constantly fought its hold on me, feeling weak and alone and regretting my life choices. Just to let myself fall for its lies, pretending it’s a solution to all life’s challenges. THATS THE DISORDER!
That tendency alcohol produces in your mind and body that strong urge for satisfaction in a bottle. A quick fuse for those of us dealing with the struggle, alone, together, separate. Our family of orphans.
THE GRIEF IS WITH US ALL
Losing two brothers and almost a third in a house fire took its toll on us all. I believe culture and community support at that time helped us to gain acceptance for our loss as a family. My elder sister followed with cancer stealing her life. Another younger brother passed from alcohol related physical problems. A survivor from the house fire aforementioned; this younger brother struggled with alcohol use disorder as most of us did. He had the added suffering caused by chronic back pains and a severe skin excema that caused crusting layers upon his skin when irritated accompanied by itching and burning. When he was initiated into a healing culture at the time I too, was on my own healing journey and embraced what we refer to as the Shaker Faith, in particular, the 1910 Shakers which began in Mud Bay Washington. It was hands-on healing and other members are gifted to ‘see’. I saw a giant lizard upside down on my brothers back when he was dancing. It was very real and i could see it as i prayed for him. OF COURSE, MY EYES WERE CLOSED! That was the only time I could see it.
My grandparents also accredited the Shakers with family salvation; my gramma a prayer warrior and my grampa a hands-on healer, dancer, and singer. He was builder of the faith and the church for the WSANEC people. Many stories exist of his healing works and encounters he had with the colonial demons that had posessed our people, the land and sea. My grandparents partnered in the christian pentecostal as many of my Dads siblings had taken christianity through my dads sister and husband who held church and practiced in our community, offering programs of storytelling from the bible, crafts, and songs. My grandparents had a room specifically known as the ‘shakeroom’. Prayers, with hands-on healing were offered there to all who entered.
I quit the substance cold turkey, or it was a MIRACLE. just kidding. It may have been cause I know I was deep into it then suddenly, the cravings and need were gone. I do feel the need to rejuvenate myself with faith in the Creator. In WSANEC the creator is XALS. I pray to him each day, and throughout the day and night. Church is creation!
Our youth and our young adult lives while our parents were still alive was difficult for us. At funerals and prayers community speakers gave us the traditional teachings about abstainance for 1 year after losing loved ones. So hard to do. Grief impacted us all. It was hard to quit. Some of us just chose to hide it. At the last funeral, an elder was trying to get mad at us, he said when alcohol took his grandson it was time to put a stop to it. It seems to me some speakers words stick to you. So much of our close knit community is impacted by alcohol and the opioids have also infiltrated in, which began with cocaine and Crack to consume our youth, and it does. It has also increased violence; domestic and against one another in our villages for drug money mostly. We can’t be afraid to openly discuss and change these current situations. Seems to me, almost every nation can claim emergency status. The colonizer has allowed these drugs and alcohol to hinder our self-determination. I heard Malcolm X many times say that these poisons were purposely introduced to ‘the black man”. I believe that to be true about the ‘Indian’ as well. In trade relations in early colonial settlements alcohol was exchanged for furs, foods, etc. The men were given the alcohol like a handshake. NEVER trust the Whiteman’s handshake because their Bible says, their not to let the left hand see what the right hand is doing, something like that.
I am going to stop here, in our community some of our speakers will say, ‘that’s as far as I can go right now’ and they leave their words for us to accept, embrace, or leave for another time. Sometimes they say we have to hear the words even if the message is for someone else or another time. I agree with this, this is why the oral tradition is still used in our nations, something the Whiteman couldn’t steal, as generations do inherit many of the powerful words we have heard over time. It is growing in use as language immersion and speakers; men AND WOMYN are raised up. There is hope in sharing. A big component of Indigenous culture.
