Chips on the table, chips on my shoulder, chips in his pocket

Tuesday was his anniversary. It's the day that marked five year years since he's had a drink.

Alcohol has been a big topic in my life lately. Who am I kidding? Alcohol has been an elephant in the room most of my life. But lately, it's been monthly, weekly, daily. Arguments over drinking, conversations of concern over someone's drinking too much and too often. We wonder what to do, but that's what we do, wonder. You learn at some point in your path that you cannot help another unless that other wants to help him or herself first. You can try, but while you're busy chasing your tail, that spinning in circles you're doing will undo your solid footing faster than spilled water on a tile floor. In my life there are no less than four people who either have ruined or are ruining their lives through alcohol. There are incidents and accidents and facts swept into the corner, there are denials and lies, stories that don't add up, holes in memories and dark circles under eyes that used to shine.

When I lost my father, I spent the better part of five weeks with a drink in my hand and one on the way, a hall pass in my back pocket. Earlier this week when I left my sister's house, I had an urge to spill out my stress, confusion and sadness over a drink. Or five. I'd be lying if I said it didn't take some effort to pick up the phone instead. But I dialed the number of a friend who would listen. It's a habit I've been working to gain. While it doesn't numb the pain, it serves me much better in the long run.

I don't remember my brother's drinking being an issue, not in any sort of the ways that I witness today. He didn't live here then; we weren't around each other enough for me to note. But he did think his drinking an issue, and he listened to that voice inside of him that said, No more. No matter what it takes.

And then he went to work.

He goes to meetings, he's built and rebuilt friendships, he's forged a different way. He stopped running and instead stood his ground and dealt with what came his way then and there. And in five years, even when we lost our father, he has stayed on this course. No excuses, no lies, no hiding the obvious, no accidents, no facts swept into the corner. I've watched his life change in the positive, his temper calm, his outlook brighten and his sensitivities come forward, his compassion and determination no longer hidden.

We chatted on the phone Tuesday night about Mom, my niece, other stuff that brothers and sisters talk about when they're trying to keep the family together. After we hung up, I set the phone down on the counter and, in a second, it rang with his name on the Caller ID.

Hey, it's me again. I wanted to let you know that today is my anniversary. Five years. I'm picking up my chip tonight.

Congratulations, big brother. You recognized it, addressed it, and changed it. I'm sure it wasn't easy, but you did it. You're still doing it. I'm proud of you.