Noted that all of my experience revolves around people.
My brothers are integral to my most vivid early childhood
memories. Recently, my oldest brother Neil described the lament when they had
to take me on their adventures.
"Do we have to take Barbara?" pointless question,
obvious answer.
My recollections of my mother at this time are good,
wonderful actually. She was frequently ill...bedridden, but this was our normal
so at that time I didn't feel particularly one way or the other. I never
questioned that she loved me, she just couldn't always keep her eye on me and
that fell to my brothers. Ronny was my champion, Randy my competition, Rusty my
responsibility, and Neil...was always the pretty one. I learned a good life
from my interactions with all of them. Because of my brothers I don't take men
too seriously. Their blow and spout just camouflages a sensitive spirit. (Ha!
and this male fallacy we will explore in another experience.)
I only now realize how much they protected me, especially
emotionally. I knew as long as I had at least one brother no harm could ever
come to me. Because he was older and someone I had to catch-up with, Randy and
I were competitive. Rusty was younger and someone I needed to protect...as I
was protected. The oldest, Neil and Ronny, were to be obeyed. That was just how
it was done, no doubt, no question. We all grew to embrace that we are our brothers’
keeper and we took it seriously. I am sad for people that do not share my
experience with their own siblings. We were competitive with each other but
never against each other.
My brothers were people I could count on without
question...and I still do. Even my brother Rusty, whom I did not see for nearly
50 years, I know if I "really" called for him, he would come.
Over my lifetime the geographic estrangement and then the
death of two of my brothers has been a blow as devastating as that of losing my
grandpa.
My grandfathers’ death taught me that life is finite and not to be
taken for granted. It taught me about loss and the permanence of it and also
the permanence of mistakes. Death taught me you cannot go back, from anything,
you can only move forward. Ronny and Randy's death have left me incomplete and
I will never be whole again. I will move forward, but not the person I might
have been had they remained. But then really, isn't it all branches on a tree?
I am not the person I might have been had I made different choices anywhere
along the trunk. Maybe the person I am without them is good even without their
back-up. Maybe having them for the time that I did taught me to survive, even
thrive, without them.
While this may be true, I don't have to like it. My
brothers are whom I imagine when I hit a bad patch, imagine the advice they
would offer, hear them whisper words of encouragement in my ear. Even if we are
not together, my brothers are always on the back-burner to be stirred every now
and again just to keep them from drying out. And this I will take with me to my
own death, that's how important my brothers are to me.
