If you saw my brother, Alby seated at a restaurant or walking in the park, your first thought might be, "Wow, nice looking guy. Beautiful hair." But Alby is dying. He is addicted to heroin.

I guess most every family deals with stuff like this. Maybe not heroin, but alcohol, mental illness, whatever. (Our family just happens to deal with all three.)

And so, after returning from recent travels, I hit the the ground running AND hit the wall at the same time. For starters, our Galley Gourmet dinner cruise season started up, the garden needed attention, there were bills to pay and yadda yadda. Yet one thing kept nagging my brain: Alby will be celebrating his 52nd birthday on June 5. But at the rate he's going, I don't think he's going to make it to 53.

What should I get him for his birthday? I'd be lying if I just sent him a regular card. Hallmark doesn't cover life issues like this.

So, I wrote Alby a letter and mailed it, wrapped inside a T-shirt. Here's what I wrote:

Dear Alby,

As my oldest brother, I've always admired your drive to not let anything get in your way--from skiing the toughest hills, to going after a swimming record. I may not have told you this before, but you have always been an inspiration to me. The poetry and prose you wrote were free-flowing and full of feeling. And when I read the words, I felt as if I had wings.

Alby, I was always proud to introduce you to my friends as my big brother and friend, the one that dared to do things differently. And I love you very much.

However, over the past year or so, when I've tried to get together with you and it hasn't worked out, I've been relieved because I'm afraid of what you've become. I'm afraid to be around you. Sure, I live in Alaska, but I am not blind and separate from what is happening to you; what people around you are saying. I'm afraid to be around you because the drugs you are taking change you. You become aggressive, loud, cocky and very agitated. I don't know who or where the real Alby is anymore.

Alby, you are dying.

You are DYING!

Think about it: Travis Britt [our nephew who is fighting an extremely rate form of bone cancer] is dying to live, while you are living to die.

With your birthday coming up, I realized I could not ignore what is happening to you and simply send you a goody-goody happy birthday card. That's why I am writing this letter. I've always considered myself not just a sister, but a friend to you. But I've known for many years that drugs are a problem in your life. And friends don't look the other way. So right now I am asking you to accept treatment for your drug problem.

I love you Alby, and I am concerned that you will not live to see your next birthday. I am willing to stand by you as you go through treatment.

If you don't agree to go into treatment, I will not speak with you, see you, answer your emails, call you, send you Christmas gifts or have anything to do with you.

I love you,

Marion