Every girl needs a big brother. I was particularly blessed to have MY big brother, Mike. We alone shared our particular world. We were siblings in all ways: we played together and we fought with each other. All the time.
I realize that he probably had different feelings for me than I had for him. I was his little sister , and I whined and cried, and wanted to be with him. I'm pretty sure he didn't really want to be with me most of the time. But I sure wanted to be with him.
We were both in the car the day of the accident. We were thrown out of the car, but our mother was thrown through the windshield and suffered head injuries, which took her life nine weeks later. Mike was 5 (almost 6), I was 3, and our mom was 40. This produced a peculiar situation for me and Mike because our dad remarried quite soon after and it was not a happy thing for any of us.
So Mike and I had something new to share: we had to learn to navigate the waters of this new life. And there were many rules, traps, and worries. We had to learn when to lie, when to keep secrets, what to do to protect ourselves. We pretty much had to forget we had ever had a mother.
Anyway, we grew up. We had many good times--swimming at our lake cabin, riding in the boat, playing games. We loved/hated each other, as siblings usually do. He teased me, tricked me, twisted my arm, sat on my head, called me names (his favorite was patti fatty stupid dummy buzzard sap and ignorant pig. I retaliated with michael fatty stupid dummy buzzard sap and ignorant pig--which never had the same effect!) And I'm sure I had it coming, well, maybe sometimes...But at the same time, he was my protector, defender, my friend, and my ally.
By the time we were teenagers, he was really my hero! In the summer when we were at the lake, we and Dave, Doug, and Lois would go to the drive-in almost every weekend, frequently for a dusk-to-dawn movie. That's where he introduced me to the joys of beer. Also at the cabin, he tried to teach me to smoke, but I never quite got the hang of that, thank goodness!
But, somewhere along the way, after we were both adults with families of our own, we lost our way with each other.
A while back I was visiting with my brother-in-law, Marv. I, in my constant effort to learn more about my mom, was asking Marv what he remembered about when she died. Here is our conversation:
"It was around Thanksgiving and we were sitting at the dinner table, when the phone rang. Your dad answered it, and it was the hospital calling to tell him Mary Lou had died. He headed up to the hospital first, and Barb and I stayed with you and Mike. Then he came back, and Barb and I went up to the hospital. In the meantime, he must have told you and Mike that she died. When we came back, you greeted us at the door and said, 'My Mommy went to heaven in her jammies!' "
I asked, "What was Mike doing?" Marv replied, "He was sitting on his dad's lap with his face buried in his dads's chest." That's the moment I realized that Mike's experience was different from mine.
Why is this important now, after all these years? It's important from my perspective because I had always viewed my brother as bigger, stronger, smarter, funnier, more popular, but I had never viewed him as a vulnerable person, who could be unhappy, or lonely or scared. I wish I could have known him better. :)
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So, Mike, if you happen to read this, remember the time we found the dead bat, buried it, and later dug it back up to show Grandma? Good times! (well, maybe not so much for Grandma!) I love you, big brother. Happy Birthday!
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