He's heavy, he's my brother
My eldest brother is an odd duck, someone I have never been able to get a grasp on. This may be in part due to our age difference - he is 14 years older than me. But it is also due to the man that he is. I suspect a fair degree of neurological difference, something that might be classified somewhere along the autism spectrum but with a very high degree of functionality. Part of the reason I believe this is that he has a few interests in life that are exceptionally intense, one of which involves airplanes. Conversations with him can become difficult as a result.
He left for college when I was four, and I really didn't see him again until five years after that. He returned home to live with my family for a few years while he tried to get into medical school, but on failing that he turned rather unpleasant and unpredictable to be around. I avoided him as much as possible. Then, one day, he just threw all his things in his car and drove away. None of us was to hear from him again for almost five years. It turned out that he had headed out to Denver, and built a life for himself there. His disappearance was very hard for my parents, but I can't say that it worried me overmuch. We honestly had no relationship, and aside from parental sadness it had no impact on my life. Then, one year around Christmastime he showed up at my parents' house and announced that he had moved back, and had taken an apartment in a nearby town. There was no real explanation of what had happened, and no one made a point of asking.
For decades since he has lived there no one has ever been invited to his home. The only times anyone saw him were at a few holidays a year. He kept his entire life shrouded in secrecy. Apparently, though, he had a partner. I only know this because one day his partner called me looking for legal advice, and I remained the only family member to have even had that much contact with him up until his death a few years later.
My brother stopped coming to holidays after one encounter with me. He had been at my parents' house for Christmas, and had behaved pretty appallingly the entire time. I drove him to the airport in Providence for his flight home, and during the first half of the drive he went on and on about a dozen issues about my parents. Finally, I had enough.
"Bill, you know the deal with them. You know nothing is going to change. You are in your fifties and yet you still hold on to these grievances. Grow up and move on."
From this alone he stopped coming to family holiday gatherings. He began irregularly visiting my parents at other times, set to avoid contact with any of his siblings. As my father's health declined these became more frequent, but never overlapped with mine.
One day I had to call him because my father was entering his last days. It was the first time I can ever remember me calling him. We talked for a bit, and he asked me if he ought to come and see Dad. I told him that it was up to him, but that if he wanted to see him again he needed to move quickly. He did, on his own, just before Dad passed. We had an awkward time at the memorial service, and I had to all but twist his arm to get him to stand up to say something (after all the children and grandchildren and some of the cousins had done so). After that we largely avoided each other at the after party, as each time we got talking it was about his myriad of health issues. He is 58 and not taking care of himself, overweight and diabetic.
I think I am not likely to see him again until my mother fails, unless something worse happens. Geographically I am the closest one to him, only an hour drive apart. Should he become seriously ill or worse, I am the one who will have to step in. That will be problematic, as I am without doubt his least favorite sibling.
When I think of the totality of his life I can't help but feel sad. The mental deck was loaded against him and I am not sure, honestly, what his quality of life has been.
The gene genie was not kind to several members of my family, him perhaps worst of all.
This is why from a young age I resolved to live my life differently. I always pushed myself harder, chose riskier things, moved around to try new places, and aggressively sought out new people. I couldn't bear to think of myself as following his path in life. That's an ugly thought to have, but it gave me a push that was coming from nowhere else.
I have no way to reach out to him after all these years that could possibly succeed. Worse, I'm not sure I want to. We may be close in blood, but that is it.
I don't know what he is doing for the holidays this year, or for that matter any of the previous years. I hope it is something he finds tolerable. My brother often surfaces in my mind at this time of year, and mostly with a sense of helplessness.
Part of me always fears ending up like him.
He left for college when I was four, and I really didn't see him again until five years after that. He returned home to live with my family for a few years while he tried to get into medical school, but on failing that he turned rather unpleasant and unpredictable to be around. I avoided him as much as possible. Then, one day, he just threw all his things in his car and drove away. None of us was to hear from him again for almost five years. It turned out that he had headed out to Denver, and built a life for himself there. His disappearance was very hard for my parents, but I can't say that it worried me overmuch. We honestly had no relationship, and aside from parental sadness it had no impact on my life. Then, one year around Christmastime he showed up at my parents' house and announced that he had moved back, and had taken an apartment in a nearby town. There was no real explanation of what had happened, and no one made a point of asking.
For decades since he has lived there no one has ever been invited to his home. The only times anyone saw him were at a few holidays a year. He kept his entire life shrouded in secrecy. Apparently, though, he had a partner. I only know this because one day his partner called me looking for legal advice, and I remained the only family member to have even had that much contact with him up until his death a few years later.
My brother stopped coming to holidays after one encounter with me. He had been at my parents' house for Christmas, and had behaved pretty appallingly the entire time. I drove him to the airport in Providence for his flight home, and during the first half of the drive he went on and on about a dozen issues about my parents. Finally, I had enough.
"Bill, you know the deal with them. You know nothing is going to change. You are in your fifties and yet you still hold on to these grievances. Grow up and move on."
From this alone he stopped coming to family holiday gatherings. He began irregularly visiting my parents at other times, set to avoid contact with any of his siblings. As my father's health declined these became more frequent, but never overlapped with mine.
One day I had to call him because my father was entering his last days. It was the first time I can ever remember me calling him. We talked for a bit, and he asked me if he ought to come and see Dad. I told him that it was up to him, but that if he wanted to see him again he needed to move quickly. He did, on his own, just before Dad passed. We had an awkward time at the memorial service, and I had to all but twist his arm to get him to stand up to say something (after all the children and grandchildren and some of the cousins had done so). After that we largely avoided each other at the after party, as each time we got talking it was about his myriad of health issues. He is 58 and not taking care of himself, overweight and diabetic.
I think I am not likely to see him again until my mother fails, unless something worse happens. Geographically I am the closest one to him, only an hour drive apart. Should he become seriously ill or worse, I am the one who will have to step in. That will be problematic, as I am without doubt his least favorite sibling.
When I think of the totality of his life I can't help but feel sad. The mental deck was loaded against him and I am not sure, honestly, what his quality of life has been.
The gene genie was not kind to several members of my family, him perhaps worst of all.
This is why from a young age I resolved to live my life differently. I always pushed myself harder, chose riskier things, moved around to try new places, and aggressively sought out new people. I couldn't bear to think of myself as following his path in life. That's an ugly thought to have, but it gave me a push that was coming from nowhere else.
I have no way to reach out to him after all these years that could possibly succeed. Worse, I'm not sure I want to. We may be close in blood, but that is it.
I don't know what he is doing for the holidays this year, or for that matter any of the previous years. I hope it is something he finds tolerable. My brother often surfaces in my mind at this time of year, and mostly with a sense of helplessness.
Part of me always fears ending up like him.