There are always so many words in my head, all at once

If I wrote down everything that jumped into my brain, I would probably be able to add song writer to my singer title.

Last week, my brother called me, right out of the blue, late on a Sunday evening. He was drunk & hyped up on a cocktail of medication.
I should add, I haven't seen him in 7 years. Long story short, he took my new born niece & left. Cutting himself off from every person he had ever known.
So, he tells me he's seperated from his partner & mother of his child & he thought I should know. He has a lot of mental health issues, which he indicated had contributed.
We spoke for over an hour, about everything & nothing. I asked him if I could meet him in town, sometime during the week. That didn't happen. He literally trusts no one, so I don't even have a number to text him on. I know it was just a breif window & I probably won't hear from him again for a long time.
When he took off, it lead to me losing pretty much everything. My relationship, my job & my mother, who to this day, is a shadow. I had a breakdown & was put on antidepressants.

I can't tell my mum he called. She has just removed the shrine she had, in the form of his bedroom. I had to do that forcibly.

I contacted him through his in laws, this time last year, to tell him that my grandpa was sick. He phoned me a couple of times & verbally abused me. It was very much the worst case scenario. He chose not to attend the funeral & no further contact was made.
The man who called last week, was a very different person.

I instantly had to tell one of my closest friends, who has been with me, holding me together, for 90% of my life & knows it all. Her reactions are always as I need them to be. She asked me to tell her how I felt, that second, not to think, just tell.

He felt the need to tell me that my father, who also has a lot of mental health issues, tried to kill himself. Oh right. That'll be that then.
I told him that 2 years ago, someone had text me to tell me he had a heart attack. He responded by telling me that if the shoe was on the other foot, he would of done something, been there. I know he wouldn't. He's proven that. It's only words.
I have had to deal with a LOT with my father/sperm donner. He was mentally & physically abusive with us, our whole childhood. Something my incredibly weak mother aloud & to this day, denies it ever happened. He had also beaten her into the ground, so I've learned to make my peace with that.
When my mother eventually decided to get rid of him, it was after a social work threat.
I decided, at 16, that I wouldn't see him again. I didn't for 4 years. Then he found out where I worked & chaos followed. So again, long story cut short, I decided 4 years ago, that I was done. I don't intend to speak to him, ever again.

So why is it, that I feel guilty as hell for not running to the rescue? Why did my brother feel the need to tell me the story, in such a disapproving manner?
As my friend pointed out, because he doesn't know. He has been so uninvolved for so long, he has no idea. No clue as to how many times I had to sign medical releases. To pay deposits for flats & cars. Of the times my mums been in hospital. Of the scars & destruction he's caused & I've had to pick up the pieces.

I asked him who he had & he said he only had his daughter. That was the moment I felt most sorry for him. That's why I asked to meet him.
In short, I'm glad he called, glad he called me & not my mum. But I've let go again. I think it's just been too long. My door's alway going to be open to him, but my emotions are firmly closed off.