Taking Off

It couldn't have been easy for my mother, raising an eleven year old and a fourteen year old alone after her husband died, but she did the best she could. It was the sixties and she was just a mere forty herself. What I remember was a lot of yelling, until one night she literally kicked him out. At the time I was just happy to finally have my own room and not have to share it with my mom.

For years I never gave any weight to the situation, I just dusted myself off and put on a happy face despite my needs for guidance and attention. Looking back now as an adult to the me as a child, I can see the struggle and the pain clearly. There have been many aftershocks.

After losing my father at eleven and my brother at fourteen, you might say I floundered a bit. My mom was constantly out dating, while I was alone with my headphones and alcohol. I was clearly lost. I had relationships with boys, then I had relationships with men. I'm sure any shrink would say I was just in search of my father, or mother, or brother for that matter.

When my mothers brain tumor was diagnosed as terminal, I brought her to my home, and helped her die. That brought my brother and I back together, I was hopeful, but it was brief.

My brothers wife died six months ago. He is lonely and lost, so of course I have opened my home to him. He has been here for only one week.

People have commented on how generous I am, how wonderful it is that I have done this. It makes me uncomfortable to hear these words. It is he who has brought the comfort to me. Knowing that he is now here for the long hall brought me a peace I haven't known. I am finding myself again, that person who poked herself out on good days, seems to be slowly emerging. It's such a submerged feeling I'm not even sure what it it is, but I think I'm finding my wings.

Soon I should be ready to take off.

His Time of Need

A phone call in the middle of the night is never good. It's a clear indicator that something is wrong. In my experience it has always meant someone has died or been rushed to the hospital. At least this is how it happens in my family.

When the call came at 3:30 I didn't answer with "hello" I answered with "what's wrong". My brothers wife died from a heart attack in her sleep.

Now I go into auto pilot. I have been in this mode many times before and I'm quite prepared, which is not to say I'm not shook up. He lives about 90 minutes away and I'll make the solo drive tomorrow.

I felt compassion only once from my brother. It was the day my father died, I was eleven and my mom told me my dad was very sick. My brother put it into terms that I understood, he said " Daddy isn't going to get better" and he hugged me.

I'm sure that when everything is done, all arrangements have been made, and things are nice and tidy, everything will return to normal. I won't see him for years, he won't call me on my birthday, and he'll forget he has a niece. When I tell him I really need to see him he'll make some excuse why he can't visit.

OR - maybe not, maybe things will be different this time.

I hope so.