We can choose what we remember…
I’m five years older than my little brother. When he was a little guy, he absolutely adored me.
I can remember as Air Force kids when we used to stand in line to get our immunizations to go to foreign countries with each of Dad’s transfers. The nurses would stand in two lines as we walked slowly for our shots. We would get poked several times in each arm as we finished our trek. I went first and acted very brave for my brother. If I even flinched, he would break down in sobs.
Little did he know, that the reason my Dad followed so closely behind me was to catch me when I fainted. Trying to be so stoic at such a young age cost me a little. I was certainly on my way to becoming a codependent.
As my brother and I grew older, he didn’t adore me very much any more. While I loved school, studying and trying to make my parents proud of me, he started rebelling, smoking and drinking, and would have definitely been in the CR chemically dependent group, if he had ever chosen to attend.
But my brother took care of my Mom after my Dad passed away. He was kind and tender and attentive. I had never seen those qualities in him before, and I was glad to see him live with purpose. After my Mom passed away, he spiraled downward, and it was hard for us to communicate positively.
I got a call a few weeks ago from my brother telling me he had cancer. The next call was from the doctor telling me that it was incurable, and that I should go to see him as soon as I could. They had already set up hospice. So I made the long drive with my daughter, Laura, and her kids, Max and Lily, to say good-bye to him.
My brother passed away on Monday, July 25, 2022. I’m so glad we were able to visit. I told him about Jesus, and he said he had “made things right with God.”
I can choose to remember the rebellious boy and adult who repeatedly broke my parents’ heart, or I can remember the little boy who adored me and the man who so lovingly cared for my Mom.
Although we don’t have choices in many areas of our lives while we grieve, I think we can still focus on the parts of the loved ones with memories that we treasure. I’m going to try to remember the loving man who cared for my mother, and the little boy that held my hand while eating ice cream cones after our shots.