Phone calls at three o'clock in the morning never meant anything good. This morning, Betsy braced herself for the worst as she reached for the phone by her bed. Someone was hurt, dead or worse.

       The voice quickly told Betsy that this was the worse. "Brian's drinking again," Meggan sobbed. Her brother had promised her that he would stop.

       The realistic side of her, the one that had attended Al-non meetings, pointed out that he couldn't stop forever. Her heart wanted something different. She had wanted to believe this time would be different. This time he would keep his word and stop.

       She heard Meggan take a deep breath and continued, "I-- I don't know what to do anymore." A person can only be asked to take on so much of another's load. A heart can carry only so much weight.

       "I'm coming, just wait on me." Quickly, Betsy got up and packed her stuff. One thing remained-- the hardest thing a sister could do. Tough love was Brian's only option.

       "At first," Meggan started, "I thought I was alone. You know, the only person that saw what was happening. He was the master of hiding the truth." She carefully folded Brian's T-shirt, and lovingly placed it in the suitcase. Gently, she added a pair of socks. "Then, Kurt mentioned something and Rachel asked me about another little thing. I hope they will support this."

       The action of talking was a cover, a way to distract Meggan from the finality of the action she was preforming. Betsy listened, remembering all that she had heard in the Al-non meetings. The only way that Brian would stop drinking was when he hit bottom. And, maybe, just maybe, this would push him to the point that he accepts help for his alcoholism.

       Meggan let out a muffled sob. "What will Kitty think?" Betsy didn't need to be a mind reader to answer that question.

       "That we did what was best. His drinking is tearing you and me up. We need to do this." Sometimes, the unknown was easier than the known. "This is the best thing. We can't save him." They couldn't live with Brian's drinking anymore.

       The door slammed, letting them know that he had returned. With a questioning glance, Betsy stared at Meggan. Resolved, Meggan picked up the suitcases and walked out the door. Betsy followed.

       In a stupor, Brian stared at the suitcases. Meggan was beyond words, so Betsy spoke those sentences she had carefully rehearsed. "You have a drinking problem, brother. Until you get help, you cannot come back here. In the front of the suitcase, I've packed several A. A. numbers." Maybe, these words hurt his heart as much as they hurt hers.

       Brian collected his suitcases and left. The sudden and brutally final sound of the door slamming echoed though the whole house.

       In its wake, two women stood sobbing their hearts out. Their tears spoke louder than any words.

To anyone who has held out a helping hand to a loved one and kept it out despite the pain. Always ready and willing to help, until one day, slowly, sadly, you reached a point that you had to drop the hand and walk away, knowing the kind of help you wanted to give, your loved one didn't want.