Twenty Years Ago: My Brother Died
January 26, 2008
Today would have been my brother's, James Monroe, birthday. He would have been 75 years old. He died from liver failure due to immunosuppressants taken for his two kidney transplants. He was only 55. How very young! He was my hero and yet I really did not know him that well. I simply loved him. He was my big brother whom I idolized. That was 20 years ago. I now live next door to my big sister, Bessie Ruth, who was two years younger than he. They grew up together and, therefore, she has a different memory of him.
I am 65 years old this month. I am going through my second childhood. I find myself, though 65, still acting and reacting like a child to grown-up situations.
Why is my observance of my brother's birthday so important to me today? I've not overly reacted to January 26 in years past. Why today? And why do I mention my sister in conjunction with memories of my brother? Why not my memories of him?
Could it be that I am still floundering around for my own identity separate from not only my siblings but all people with whom I am related or involved? Or do we indeed have separate selves independent of others? Do I? If I am not a wife, mother, sister, grandmother; then who am I? But should I suddenly find myself cut off from all those I know and love, would I simply disappear? No. Where are my boundaries? And are they constantly changing as my relationship to others change? Am I more amorphous than constant? Is everyone? Is it even desirable to be one or the other? If so, which one?
Who am I?
Looking back 2.5 years ago, I think I was moving to the country to be alone. Alone in the Garden of Eden, newly created not having eaten of the fruit.
When I first moved to Eden, which I called Stepping Stones, I was happier than I had been in a very long time. I remember when I decorated my study, I left out any paraphernalia, be it pictures or whatever, that had anything to do with anyone else in my past or current life. It was decorated with MY things; my paintings, my writings, my pictures. No pictures of husband, children, parents, or siblings were allowed. Of course, this was not consciously decided. It just happened that way. Once decorated, I took a look around and realized I was alone in my room. And I was very happy. No demands were being made of me to be a good this or that. I had not eaten of the tree of good and evil. I was child like. I was FREE.
I had escaped social life and lived only with nature without people. I spent hours each day observing the View from My Window and I wrote all this stuff about what lessons I was learning. However, as time passed, situations arose that interrupted my idyllic existence. Eve, in the form of people, entered my garden and asked me yet once again to eat of the apple of human relationships. In the past, I had always gladly eaten thereof to pacify Eve; to please her in whatever way that I could. But then over time, this response became tedious even causing extreme resentment and rather than refuse the apple I simply let a chasm open between my true self and the self I presented while eating of the apple.
And so, I fell from grace and no longer inhabit the Garden. Now my geographical location is inconvenient for it puts me smack dab in the center of human contact. Firstly and foremost there is the sister that I mentioned earlier. Why does she live next door to me? In order to help her (there I go being a good sister again to win those brownie points in some "good book" that is kept only God knows where), I buy the place next door to me (although there was a certain amount of selfish motive involved here; i.e. to keep "others" away from me) so she can sell her house down the road a bit and not have to worry about money. Three motivations for one action; one good and pure, the others are questionable.
Secondly, my daughter and her new husband decide to have a child and this makes me a grandmother. Oops....bells and whistles, loud ones, warning me that here come further complications and now I must be a perfect grandmother. Some might say I was not even a good mother, how in the world shall I be a good grandmother? No, No, I do not want any part of it. Run, escape.
Thirdly, my community seems to me to need me. How can an organization run without my expert control? I must stick in my two cents; otherwise, it will flounder.
So, now I find myself, right back where I began. Twenty years ago? Thirty? Is that why my brother's birth date called out to me? I need to be reborn yet once again. And hence my statement that I am going through a second childhood. I never finished my first. Nor, will I. Life has taught me that. I will always be a work in progress. One does not ever grow up. Until death, that is. Maybe it is then that we become a self and cease morphing from one personality to another. Why? Because it is then, perhaps, that we no longer deal with "others" and we are truly alone.
Therefore, engage life. Fully, fruitfully, though imperfectly. It's okay. Everyone does it. We are all on this planet doing the damned best that we can. No more, no less. Let it be.
No, I will not live in the Garden of Eden; nor do I really want to. I want to live at Stepping Stones enjoying life, humanity and nature...all of it. But primarily, discover more about that Garden that exists within me and eat freely of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge.
Today would have been my brother's, James Monroe, birthday. He would have been 75 years old. He died from liver failure due to immunosuppressants taken for his two kidney transplants. He was only 55. How very young! He was my hero and yet I really did not know him that well. I simply loved him. He was my big brother whom I idolized. That was 20 years ago. I now live next door to my big sister, Bessie Ruth, who was two years younger than he. They grew up together and, therefore, she has a different memory of him.
I am 65 years old this month. I am going through my second childhood. I find myself, though 65, still acting and reacting like a child to grown-up situations.
Why is my observance of my brother's birthday so important to me today? I've not overly reacted to January 26 in years past. Why today? And why do I mention my sister in conjunction with memories of my brother? Why not my memories of him?
Could it be that I am still floundering around for my own identity separate from not only my siblings but all people with whom I am related or involved? Or do we indeed have separate selves independent of others? Do I? If I am not a wife, mother, sister, grandmother; then who am I? But should I suddenly find myself cut off from all those I know and love, would I simply disappear? No. Where are my boundaries? And are they constantly changing as my relationship to others change? Am I more amorphous than constant? Is everyone? Is it even desirable to be one or the other? If so, which one?
Who am I?
Looking back 2.5 years ago, I think I was moving to the country to be alone. Alone in the Garden of Eden, newly created not having eaten of the fruit.
When I first moved to Eden, which I called Stepping Stones, I was happier than I had been in a very long time. I remember when I decorated my study, I left out any paraphernalia, be it pictures or whatever, that had anything to do with anyone else in my past or current life. It was decorated with MY things; my paintings, my writings, my pictures. No pictures of husband, children, parents, or siblings were allowed. Of course, this was not consciously decided. It just happened that way. Once decorated, I took a look around and realized I was alone in my room. And I was very happy. No demands were being made of me to be a good this or that. I had not eaten of the tree of good and evil. I was child like. I was FREE.
I had escaped social life and lived only with nature without people. I spent hours each day observing the View from My Window and I wrote all this stuff about what lessons I was learning. However, as time passed, situations arose that interrupted my idyllic existence. Eve, in the form of people, entered my garden and asked me yet once again to eat of the apple of human relationships. In the past, I had always gladly eaten thereof to pacify Eve; to please her in whatever way that I could. But then over time, this response became tedious even causing extreme resentment and rather than refuse the apple I simply let a chasm open between my true self and the self I presented while eating of the apple.
And so, I fell from grace and no longer inhabit the Garden. Now my geographical location is inconvenient for it puts me smack dab in the center of human contact. Firstly and foremost there is the sister that I mentioned earlier. Why does she live next door to me? In order to help her (there I go being a good sister again to win those brownie points in some "good book" that is kept only God knows where), I buy the place next door to me (although there was a certain amount of selfish motive involved here; i.e. to keep "others" away from me) so she can sell her house down the road a bit and not have to worry about money. Three motivations for one action; one good and pure, the others are questionable.
Secondly, my daughter and her new husband decide to have a child and this makes me a grandmother. Oops....bells and whistles, loud ones, warning me that here come further complications and now I must be a perfect grandmother. Some might say I was not even a good mother, how in the world shall I be a good grandmother? No, No, I do not want any part of it. Run, escape.
Thirdly, my community seems to me to need me. How can an organization run without my expert control? I must stick in my two cents; otherwise, it will flounder.
So, now I find myself, right back where I began. Twenty years ago? Thirty? Is that why my brother's birth date called out to me? I need to be reborn yet once again. And hence my statement that I am going through a second childhood. I never finished my first. Nor, will I. Life has taught me that. I will always be a work in progress. One does not ever grow up. Until death, that is. Maybe it is then that we become a self and cease morphing from one personality to another. Why? Because it is then, perhaps, that we no longer deal with "others" and we are truly alone.
Therefore, engage life. Fully, fruitfully, though imperfectly. It's okay. Everyone does it. We are all on this planet doing the damned best that we can. No more, no less. Let it be.
No, I will not live in the Garden of Eden; nor do I really want to. I want to live at Stepping Stones enjoying life, humanity and nature...all of it. But primarily, discover more about that Garden that exists within me and eat freely of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge.
posted by Sandra | 12:58 PM
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