I gave an old boyfriend the boot after he brought a gun into my home and left it in a gym bag by the door (we had an 11-year old, 8-year old, and 5-year old in the house) and I had made my feelings on the subject clear.
Well, it wasn’t my house, but…
In the 1970s, I was living in Austin. My wife and I had come down to Houston to visit my parents for Christmas in 1975. My brother was in the middle of a huge meltdown at the time, and he showed up gorked on drugs. After making a total ass of himself, he got into it with Dad and a lot of repressed hostility came up. At that time, Dad was 65 and not in good health. My brother started getting physical with him and at that point, I had had enough.
I stepped in and asked him to leave. He turned on me and to make a long story short, I wound up running him headfirst into the refrigerator, then dragging him out onto the front porch and locking him out.
My parents forgave him, and next Christmas, he was there when we arrived. He left about thirty minutes after we got there, because he and I were very wary around each other. He died the following July; that was the last time I saw him alive.
That’s very sad Clothahump. I’m sorry that your brother had to die like that and that you and he hadn’t resolved things.