Yesterday morning I am getting ready to walk out the door and run a couple of early morning errands. Mambo #5 comes blaring out of my cell phone meaning it is my brother on the phone. I answer and my brother greets me and says "What I am about to say may shock you."
Before I jump into this, a little history. I quit college to go home and care for my mother who was dying of cancer. My brother lives in Philly and wasn't around for most of the time mom was dying in Missouri. Until my brother's visit this may to meet his new niece, I had not seen him in over 22 years. For those of you who know me and are thinking, you are right. The last time I saw him prior to that was at my mother's death. In that time there have been many fights, angry spats, and long periods of no communication. A few years ago, I buried my demons with my brother and let the hatred and anger go. So now the shock my brother spoke of.
"I always thought mother didn't love me because of the distance she put between us, but I think I am now understanding why she did." I then said, "Mom never had her talk with you did she?"
"What talk?"
I told him that I had told mom she needed to talk to my brother rather than push him away. That if he wanted to come help in her last days, she should let him. My mother wouldn't hear of it. "I have already derailed one son's life, I won't do it to both of you. I want your brother to live his life and not worry about me. Promise you will NOT tell him how bad things are and why I am pushing him to stay where he is." I gave my word and kept it until yesterday, but what my mother didn't realize is that my brother was used to being pushed away. My brother came out of the closet in his junior year at Harvard. Most of the family alienated him and I always defended him to them and chastised them for their abominable treatment of him.
As I explained to my brother why mother did what she did, tears came streaming. I described the night that I thought may have kept mother from having the talk with him.
My mother had lost all her hair, was a mere 60 some pounds and her skin was cold to the touch. I found it hard to do anything but hold her hands as they were the only warm parts of her body. My mother couldn't walk and I had to carry her the 7 yards from her bed to the bathroom as she refused to use a bedpan. I mustered my strength and carried her. I was terrified of the feel of her bones and cold skin on my bare arms. "Just a few feet more, just a few feet more." I repeated in my head. I got her to the toilet and thought she was ok, I let go and fled in tears. As I got to my room I heard my mother scream for help. I could not move. I sat huddled in my room crying. Mom got the strength to make it to my room and she sat down on the floor, wrapped her arms around me and said, "It's OK, you are doing all you can. I promise it will be over soon."
I screamed through tears "I DON'T WANT IT TO BE OVER! I WANT YOU TO LIVE!" Within a week she passed in the early morning hours and never had that talk with my brother.
As we sat on the phone apologizing to the other for foolish promises and missing the forest for the trees, tears streamed from eyes both ends of the phone and my brother asked if he could come visit the kids. I told him my door was always open to him. As the call ended he started to get an "I owe you..." I stopped him. "You owe me no apology. How can you apologize for what you don't know?"
Yesterday was truly the first day of our reunion as brothers. Truly, honestly, without secrets, and with love and respect for the other.
I love him and it felt good to finally be able to say it without the baggage of 22 years on my head.
This January 19th (the anniversary of my mother's death), we are going to fly to Philadelphia and see him and make sure he is OK and has his loves (my baby girl and my youngest son) there to play with and let him know how loved he is by his family.
Damnit, I'm crying again.
Before I jump into this, a little history. I quit college to go home and care for my mother who was dying of cancer. My brother lives in Philly and wasn't around for most of the time mom was dying in Missouri. Until my brother's visit this may to meet his new niece, I had not seen him in over 22 years. For those of you who know me and are thinking, you are right. The last time I saw him prior to that was at my mother's death. In that time there have been many fights, angry spats, and long periods of no communication. A few years ago, I buried my demons with my brother and let the hatred and anger go. So now the shock my brother spoke of.
"I always thought mother didn't love me because of the distance she put between us, but I think I am now understanding why she did." I then said, "Mom never had her talk with you did she?"
"What talk?"
I told him that I had told mom she needed to talk to my brother rather than push him away. That if he wanted to come help in her last days, she should let him. My mother wouldn't hear of it. "I have already derailed one son's life, I won't do it to both of you. I want your brother to live his life and not worry about me. Promise you will NOT tell him how bad things are and why I am pushing him to stay where he is." I gave my word and kept it until yesterday, but what my mother didn't realize is that my brother was used to being pushed away. My brother came out of the closet in his junior year at Harvard. Most of the family alienated him and I always defended him to them and chastised them for their abominable treatment of him.
As I explained to my brother why mother did what she did, tears came streaming. I described the night that I thought may have kept mother from having the talk with him.
My mother had lost all her hair, was a mere 60 some pounds and her skin was cold to the touch. I found it hard to do anything but hold her hands as they were the only warm parts of her body. My mother couldn't walk and I had to carry her the 7 yards from her bed to the bathroom as she refused to use a bedpan. I mustered my strength and carried her. I was terrified of the feel of her bones and cold skin on my bare arms. "Just a few feet more, just a few feet more." I repeated in my head. I got her to the toilet and thought she was ok, I let go and fled in tears. As I got to my room I heard my mother scream for help. I could not move. I sat huddled in my room crying. Mom got the strength to make it to my room and she sat down on the floor, wrapped her arms around me and said, "It's OK, you are doing all you can. I promise it will be over soon."
I screamed through tears "I DON'T WANT IT TO BE OVER! I WANT YOU TO LIVE!" Within a week she passed in the early morning hours and never had that talk with my brother.
As we sat on the phone apologizing to the other for foolish promises and missing the forest for the trees, tears streamed from eyes both ends of the phone and my brother asked if he could come visit the kids. I told him my door was always open to him. As the call ended he started to get an "I owe you..." I stopped him. "You owe me no apology. How can you apologize for what you don't know?"
Yesterday was truly the first day of our reunion as brothers. Truly, honestly, without secrets, and with love and respect for the other.
I love him and it felt good to finally be able to say it without the baggage of 22 years on my head.
This January 19th (the anniversary of my mother's death), we are going to fly to Philadelphia and see him and make sure he is OK and has his loves (my baby girl and my youngest son) there to play with and let him know how loved he is by his family.
Damnit, I'm crying again.