I have known for quite some time that my brother has gone way beyond experimenting with alcohol. At the wedding reception Saturday night I finally saw it with my own eyes. It was a pretty devastating experience.
Although I went to a school not known for temperance, my first hand experience with drunks was pretty limited — something that I regret, because Christ would have spent more time among the drunkards and “sinners” than I did. But I digress.
I can’t really articulate the despair I felt after my attempt to convince him not to go to the “after-party” failed. He was already completely wasted at that point. By the grace of God he is still alive and well, but it was a side of him that I wish I hadn’t seen.
One observation I made is that being drunk tends to bring out the worst in people. Whatever emotional state you are normally in is magnified when you are drunk. For my brother, that meant that he was incredibly arrogant and stubborn. I love him more than I do myself and it was horrid to see him like that. He just doesn’t have a clue what he is doing. He doesn’t even remember the conversation we had before he rode off.
There is a song lyric that expresses well the situation that my brother is in. It loses something when you just read it instead of hearing it screamed, with thrashing guitars and the crashing drums and throbbing bass line to accompany it. But here it is nonetheless, “One-Armed Man (Play On)” by Project 86:
“Submerged in endless (trailing off)
I watch them fade by (sigh)
Lifeless and blank-faced (paining on)
I see…
The face I used to be
They want to feel this (straining on)
They want to sense this (now)
Drunk with existence (waking me)
I’ll show you something (someone) you can feel
(Play on, play on)
They search and strain and drink and stagger
They play on…but I’ll never, ever look back
Zombies staring, looking my way
Crying out for something…
They want to feel this (straining on)
They want to sense this (now)
Drunk with existence (waking me)
I’ll show you something (someone) you can feel
(Play on, play on)
They search and strain and drink and stagger
They play on…
Zombies staring, looking my way
Crying out for something
They can’t fill their stomachs with enough to satisfy
the hunger growing
NEEDING SOMETHING REAL! NEEDING SOMETHING REAL!
Zombies staring, looking my way
crying out for something they can’t feel
Play, on stray on, in these wicked days on
Play on and understand that in your drunken stupor you are dying!
Zombies staring, looking my way
Reaching out for something, anything
Anything to keep them numbing
Keep them plunging far from knowing…”