Not everyone can cope with alcohol dependence. The writer Iv Einsvort talks about how alcohol destroyed her brother.

My brother Kev died 17 years ago. He was 40. I’m sorry that I did not try to understand him when he was alive. Only now I appreciated how painful and all -consuming was its alcohol dependence. She plunged a person into an incomprehensible, terrible state. My brother deserved more. For a long time I tried to figure out why alcohol always wins. I did not understand that my brother did not try to win. He tried to survive day after day.

My first memories of my brother are related to chickenpox

. I was five years old, and I was smeared from head to toe with a pink lotion. Sitting at home, I was terribly missing school. But then my older brother came and brought a whole bag of books. Kev rarely appeared at home, but when he came, the house was filled with special energy and kindness.

He bought me gifts and took it to his home on the weekend. Together with my wife, I arranged fireworks and other entertainments for me. Kev was always cheerful: he darkened, laughed and funded by ideas. He loved to read and discuss books. He taught me to appreciate the beauty of words. I did not know that he had to work too much and that even then he began to drink to relax. For me, he put on a mask of a happy carefree kev. But gradually this mask began to slide.

His marriage broke up, and after a while he was fired from his favorite work for drunkenness. He had to return to his parental house. I was 10 years old, and my brother spent almost all the time in his room. He has changed. His face became red, the speech is incoherent, and his eyes swollen. Then we still talked. He gave me his old computer and persuaded me to continue to write.

My desire to become a writer did not seem stupid. He talked about how important it is that the plot has a structure, and that you need to be able to captivate the reader. But, no matter how sad, he stopped reading. But he was still listening to music: David Bowie, Leonard Cohen and Klash. He taught me to listen to words and understand their meaning. He said that you need to loudly pronounce the words in order to understand how they work. Most importantly, he convinced me not to give up a dream, although he already stopped dreaming.