My brother died last week, suddenly, at the age of 70. We’d not spoken in many years because of a family disagreement. My family is pretty good at disagreements. A gulf can open up between people, generations, and words don’t get spoken for years and years. We harbour grudges, some of us do at least. Some of us are just built differently and things fall down, things build up. Walls.
I don’t think we could have ever really repaired our relationship. It was a fundamental difference, but that doesn’t take away the sadness of his passing. In fact, it just makes me think of happier times, and the days when we would explore, build things and talk together.
The computer we liberated from his work, I shudder to think if it was legally taken, which I then unsuccessfully tried to get to work. The pool hall in the middle of nowhere, where he’d take me sometimes and always beat easily. The friends, the parties I’d be invited to without ever quite knowing why. The curry, the food, always the food. Bon vivant.
We once spent a day putting in fence panels in the heat and then drove back to our town and sunk a few pints in the pub.
Darker times, where I remember him struggling with my father over a picture, a piece of art or a map that he was liberating during my parents’ divorce. Disagreements, disappointments, laughter, fun and anger. All intermixed.
Differences
I used to put the differences down to a single word – maturity. That person isn’t acting maturely; they are selfish and childlike in their appreciation of the world. In reality, I think that this was conflation of a few things. The older I get the more I realise my failings and foibles and how they come about either through trauma or an inability to master my emotions which may come from other sources, more developmental in nature. A slower pace to emotional maturity. I see the arguments and disagreements that I’ve had with friends and family in my life and realise that there are so many complexities at play, taking the time to slow down, to not react, to listen, to just understand a little more before offering an opinion – or just not offering an opinion – these are the things that keep people close and keep people together. When your brain is whirring at a million miles a second you think you can solve all the world’s problems.
When It Happens
I got back from Spain last night. My remaining brother, one of his son’s and I witnessed the cremation. A casket goes into a fire, no ceremony. We spent some time with his widow and took time to build some bridges with other family members who had fallen out. I’m immeasurably sad, much sadder than when my mother died. With her, she was old, it was her time. With him, it’s raw. I hear “it’s coming for you too” so I’m trying to discern the selfish feelings from the genuinely compassionate ones. My remaining brother is twelve years older than me and I can imagine he feels the pressure even more. I worry for his health. It feels sometimes hard to deal with this kind of pressure. I feel like death has been stalking me my whole life, as I’ve said goodbye to mother, father, step-father, step-mother. It’s easy to feel sorry for yourself but it happens to us all. I knew this day was coming, the day when I would bury my first sibling, but I didn’t expect it now. As I look forward I realise that I’m going to have to come up with a plan that involves me not trying to fix the world. Acceptance but also compassion and an ability to look forward.
When I heard the news, last Wednesday morning, the first thing that popped into my head was the quote made famous by John Lennon.
“Life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans”
Remembering Your People
We will use the time, the power of events, to forge new connections or reconnect. We’re a big family, and it won’t make us smaller. I will use it as an opportunity to reflect on what I want to do now, where I go from here and how I can be better to everyone around me.
Because we have the time now. I don’t believe in an afterlife and that anything good comes of us not being here, but we can, however, use our presence for good. I believe in spirituality.
We need to make the things that happen, happen now, and we should do it with compassion and honour and connection.