I have several brothers and sisters. Three brothers and three sisters to be exact, though not all from the same parents. My oldest brother had a heart attack recently. We have the same father.
My Dad called me last month to tell me my brother had the heart attack, but the prognosis was good. The doctors inserted a stent and if my brother adjusts his diet, he should probably do okay. My dad happened to be visiting his oldest children from his first marriage who live near their mother in Anchorage, Alaska. I think it was providence that he should be there at such a serious time. I’m the youngest of my father’s five children, though he considers my younger half-sister who has an absent father, his too.
The tremble in my father’s voice as he told me the news from the hospital was beautiful. He sounded so fragile. I haven’t often seen him vulnerable. My father, despite his gruff and careless exterior, is very tender-hearted. He was awoken at 3am by my brother-in-law with the news that his oldest son was in trouble. He assured me, as he recounted the story, that my brother should be fine. I still heard the concern he had for his son’s welfare. Children are not supposed to die first. I knew that thought crossed his mind.
I’m not that close to my oldest brother. We hardly grew up together because he and his sister stayed with their mother after a valiant legal fight by our father to win custody. A father winning custody of two children in the late fifties was almost unheard of. Unfortunately, after winning custody, my father married my mother. She did not love her step-children. My father sadly chose to give his older kids back to their mother for their own sakes. They would visit during the summer. As it turned out, their step-father was far worse than anyone could have imagined… My brother and his (my) sister have told me stories that are near unbelievable.
My oldest brother is a really nice guy. He was the only one besides my father (and my husband) to attend my college graduation. I was so touched. I had other siblings who lived nearby who missed it. He told me he was proud of me. I was always grateful for that kindness. Unlike my other brothers, I don’t remember him ever teasing me or making me cry, but maybe I blocked that out. I should ask him… He used to share his purple seedless with me when I was a teen. It was remarkably beautiful I remember. He was so proud of those buds. He’s the kind of guy who really appreciates what he has whether it be a vehicle, a pet, or a friend. I have never heard him say one mean-spirited thing about someone else. Even the terrifying stories of his step-father were told as if that man couldn’t help himself. I remember how he used to tell stories. It made me feel special that he would share confidences with me, his little sister nine years younger. He finally married, and in his late fifties he has a little girl who he completely adores and a nephew he loves as his own. His affection for me is never in question, our friendship feels secure. It makes for easy reunions, though many, many years pass between them.
My two other brothers are six and two years older than me. The older is someone anyone would admire if they heard his story. And the other used to be my best friend. I’m working on a book that has a chapter on siblings and I will probably use my experiences with these two brothers as a way to show how siblings can steer you in ways that determine the outcome your life. They both had an immeasurable impact on mine. More so than my parents did if I really think about it. I consider myself estranged from both these brothers, though I still occasionally see the latter at times when he is visiting our father. Phone calls feel awkward and letters make me want to cry. In this creative quest to find myself and then make a living at it, I’m hoping to gain the means to spend time with my brothers. It’s a tragedy for me not to feel like all three of these men are my close friends. That is what a brother should always be. A lifetime close friend.