After several years of being disconnected with each other, we were slowly patching things up. My brother and I had always stayed in touch. He shared with me how his family was growing and everything he was up to. But he was the only connection I had with my immediate family. Mom and Dad had made their choice about their relationship with me, and so had I about them. It was too painful to be in the middle of family misunderstandings - both sides. I had to heal and find my place in my own life.
Our time apart, to me, was not wasted. I was stronger and better for it. I was also grateful for the monthly emails from my brother, or the occasional calls. Keeping track of when someone may have had health problems or life celebrations. He was always my go-between, no matter the circumstance, as children and as adults.
I had spent time in the months preceding his death, writting my Mom. Sharing my life with her. We were connecting again. I even surprised my parents with a visit during a business trip to Florida. To me, part of a barrier was broken when I saw them.
But, we were suddenly faced with losing the one person in our small family of four, that kept us all together. Dad and I were thrust back into each others lives, to support and love each other as we tried to remain strong for my ailing mother. We put aside grievances and then became a winning team.
The year that followed the painful loss was filled with great triumphs for my Dad and I. We had to come together again to take care of my mother. Again, we were a team. There for each other. It is so heartwarming to know that the time we spent apart, I believe, allowed us to spend such a hard time together and make it through.
So, the year has past. The anniversary is here. I miss my brother. Always will.
I go back and read old emails he sent. I look at photos, that will soon be old. He is still larger than life to me.
The sadness will always be there, I know. So will the memories. There is great joy and thankfulness that he was MY brother. I am blessed.
